Brothers - A SEAL Team Collection
by remiparker
Summary: A collection of one-shots, short stories, episode tags and whatever else I think of regarding our favorite SEALs. *UPDATED* Chapter 18: Sometimes, it can be hard to know what you're fighting for, when the war you've been fighting you whole life seemingly comes to its end.
1. Christmas Miracles

**Collection Disclaimer: I do not own SEAL Team. I just like to beat up my favorite characters, tell stories of my own, or elaborate on what the show may have missed/skimmed over.**

 **Plot: Sent to secure classified intel in South Africa on Christmas, a member of Bravo Team is soon fighting for their life when things don't go as planned.**

 **1: Christmas Miracles**

Ray adjusted the rifle in his hands and spared a quick glance over his shoulder. "How're we looking, Boss?" he asks his friend and team leader, Jason Hayes.

"They haven't left. If we're gonna do this, we need to act before they miss their guys."

"Agreed, but we're in a pretty tight spot right now."

Jason grits his teeth, realizing that his second in command was right. But they'd have to make it work. "We'll make it work. Take these guys out, quick and dirty, get to their base and their supplies. It's our only play."

"So, how you wanna do this?" Sonny asks. Quick and dirty may be his favorite way of doing things, but their brother was counting on them not making a mistake this go around.

"Ray and I will flank around them, take out the men at the front gates. Sonny, you and Brock wait until their backup files out, then take them." Orders Jason. He looks at the prone figure on the ground, flashes of how they got into this mess raging in his mind. "It'll work; buy us enough time for exfil to arrive and to take care of him until they do."

"Copy that."

"Let's do this."

 **One day ago**

"Your objective for this mission is to retrieve intel that was intercepted from one of our ground transports through South Africa. The transport convoy was attacked just a few hours ago, meaning that those who hit us are likely to still be within this grid here, waiting for another chance to grab the package before it makes it to American hands." Mandy Ellis tell Bravo Team with a string of pictures and a map behind her.

"Causalities?" asks Jason.

"Surprisingly, none. This was a quick and coordinated attack; flash grenades and tear gas after the convoy was run off the road. Not a single bullet was fired. A few of the guys got a concussion from being rammed from behind, but that's the worst of it." Mandy tells the guys. "They likely didn't want to risk hitting the package in the crossfire. One of the soldiers was able to get to their destination without any other injuries before the insurgents could grab the case."

"What's the package?" Clay inquires.

"I'm afraid that's classified. You just need to know that it is imperative that we get our hands on it before the local insurgents figure out what it is and what they can do with it." Eric Blackburn replies. "You leave for South Africa at 0500. Merry Christmas."

 **In country**

Ellis told the team that the base where the intel was being held was in a small building a few miles away from a nature reserve, in the forest. Bravo was being expected to escort the intel back to the States, but when Bravo arrived, they were greeted with a sight of an overrun building and no friendlies in sight.

"Bravo One to HAVOC, I see seven insurgents in the suspected location of the intel."

"HAVOC to Bravo One, that's a good copy. Be advised that with that tree cover, we will not have eyes on you with ISR. Proceed with caution." Says Blackburn.

"Copy that. Preparing to move in."

Quick. In and out. That's what this mission was going to be. Seven insurgents meant that someone would have to do double time to take out the seventh man. Jason said that whoever had the shot needs to take it, realizing that all of the men were quick on the trigger when the job required it. Which it often did.

"Ready to go in three, two, one…" the men exited the brush and advanced on the small building, towards the unsuspecting insurgents. Six bodies quickly hit the ground, but the seventh never did. Instead, gunfire erupted from the hills above Bravo Team just as the seventh insurgent dashed back inside.

"Cover, cover, cover!" someone shouts, and fire is returned while the men took shelter where they could.

Ray shouts, "Jase move!"

Jason dives behind an empty barrel, only returning fire when he was covered. "HAVOC, we're taking heavy fire here!"

"Copy that Bravo One. They must have hidden men in the hills; ISR still can't get a clear image." Says Blackburn. "You need to locate the package and make for exfil before they call for backup."

The urgency in Eric's voice reminded Bravo Team the importance of that package, even if they didn't know what it was. "Trent! Clay! Secure the package!"

Trent was first through the doorway, with Clay hot on his heels. He swept left and right before advancing deeper into the building. Bravo Four had just motioned for Six to clear the area to their left when movement on his right caught his attention. He brings his weapon up higher, takes a few careful steps forward, soon spots the final insurgent, who is holding a small silver case close to his chest with one hand and is now aiming a shotgun with the other.

Both men pull their triggers at the same time.

Clay had just cleared his room when the shots rang out from behind him, and when he arrived a few seconds later, he saw Trent hunched over the dead insurgent, securing the case.

"Trent, you alright?" he asks when he sees blood in two different spots on the floor. And quickly noticing how his teammate moved when standing, holding his right arm close to his body.

"Bravo Four to Bravo One, package is secure. Heading your way." says Trent into the comms. "On you." then follows Clay back towards the front.

Trent and Clay were nearly at the door when a voice from outside shouts "Incoming!". Suddenly, the building shakes, raining down stone and wood on Four and Six. Clay is suddenly thrown forward as the building beings to cave in on itself. Trent managed to shove the younger SEAL out of the way but was caught up in the blast himself. He felt himself be picked up off the ground and tossed through the air, hitting something _hard_ with a sickening thud. And when he finally landed, he had already blacked out. The package skidded across the ground.

The amount of time that passed before the gunfire died away and the debris stopped falling altogether is unknown. Jason Hayes told his men to sound off, wanting to make sure they were all okay.

"Three good."

"Two, all clear."

"Five, clear."

"Spenser? Clay, report?" someone grabs Clay's shoulders, none too gently hauls him to his feet. "Clay!"

"Man down!" comes Brock's shout from across the way. "Man down!"

Ray continues to check over Clay, who is dazed, likely due to the cut to his head. And though his mumbles that he is 'fine' over and over, Ray takes that statement with a grain of salt and applies a towel to the seeping wound. Jason wait for any confirmation that the young SEAL member is okay. At Ray's nod, Jason moves to where Sonny and Brock are clearing rocks and wood away from an unmoving Trent.

"Talk to me."

"I saw him push Spenser out of the way right when the RPG hit the building…" Brock trails off, still removing rocks. When their brother was finally clear, he carefully places two fingers to Trent's neck and waits.

"HAVOC to Bravo One. I need a sitrep. What happened?" Blackburn calls over comms. ISR was useless with all the damn trees. "Jason?"

Brock continues to run his hand over Trent's body, searching for wounds and trying to wake their unofficial medic up. Jason, Sonny and Ray had taken up watch positions, while Clay had been ordered to sit on the ground with the package.

"The package is secure but…" he pauses, looks at Trent, still no movement. Brock shakes his head. "Four is down."

"How bad?"

"Stand by, HAVOC."

"Standing by."

"Brock?" Jason asks with hesitation and building worry. Trent was the one who looked after them when they were hurt or injured. But when he's the one who goes down?

"His pulse is there, too weak for my liking, but there." Comes a grim reply. "He hit that truck hard, and it looks like he's got a shotgun wound to his right bicep. I can feel a cut on his back, maybe shrapnel, but it isn't bleeding much; I'm worried about internal bleeding." Brock knew that he needed to get a better look at Bravo Four, but he was really worried about moving him at all.

"HAVOC to Bravo One be advised that ISR got a peek through the trees and you have a growing group of insurgents heading your way." Blackburn suddenly says.

"How long?"

A pause. "Less than two minutes. After that firefight, exfil can't risk getting closer than ten mikes from your current position. You need to move."

"Copy that." Jason says into his comms, then turns to his men. "Trouble's heading our way. Sonny, grab Trent. Ray, you've got point, I'll bring up the rear and Brock you've got the kid and the package." It went without saying that they needed to get as far away from their current position. And moving Trent would likely cause more harm for the soldier. But they couldn't take on a large group of insurgents.

 **One hour later**

"Hold up!" comes a shout from the back of the group. Brock is holding the package, while next to him Clay empties the remaining contents of his stomach. That's the second time he's thrown up in the last 33 minutes. Not a good sign. "Definitely a concussion."

Jason looks over his shoulder, waits, and turns to his men. "We can break here for a few minutes, look Trent and Clay over again."

Sonny and Ray move to watch positions, Brock looked at Clay, got him to drink a little Gatorade and changed the bandage around his head before moving to Trent. The bandage he managed to tie around Four's right arm while they were moving through the hills is already soaked through. There is now a trickle of blood that had seeped out of Trent's mouth, running down his chin and his neck.

Brock carefully feels along the unconscious man's back and sides, mutters a curse under his breath, and spares a glance at his Team Leader. "At least three of his ribs are broken on his left side. If we keep moving him like this, the likelihood that it'll puncture his lung goes up."

"Suggestions?" asks Jason. He sees the gears turning in Five's head and wants to know what Brock is thinking.

"We build a litter. Should be able to increase our time to exfil."

"Do it." Jason tells Brock. "Bravo One to HAVOC, come in."

"HAVOC to Bravo One, go ahead."

"Bravo Four is still down. We're stopping here to build a litter and tend to other wounds then we'll keep moving."

"That's a good copy, One. Exfil is still on schedule."

"Copy. Out." Jason keys.

Less than five minutes later, the men had Trent on a litter built from a tarp and tree branches and were moving once more. They walked through the forest in silence, as fast as they could, knowing that their brother was counting on them to make it to exfil. During this time, Clay had begun to get a clear head; he knew where he was and what he was doing, but the pain in his skull remained. Jason was willing to give him his weapon back—which Sonny had been holding to—and told him to stay on his hip at all time. Hayes wasn't going to let anything else happen to the kid on this mission, not while he was watching him.

From the front of the group, Sonny signals them to stop. Ray and Brock gently set the litter down and take up watch positions.

Ray adjust the rifle in his hands and spared a quick glance over his shoulder. "How're we looking, Boss?"

"There's a cabin up ahead. Four men, armed, likely waiting for the others." He replies. "If we're gonna do this, we need to act before they realize that something is wrong."

"Or if the insurgents trailing us gets to them."

"That too."

"That's all well and good, but we're in a pretty tight spot right now." Says Ray. "And how do we know that they haven't already been warned about us out here? This could be another trap."

Jason grits his teeth, realizing that his second in command was right. But they'd have to make it work. "We'll take these guys out, quick and dirty, get to the cabin and their supplies. Exfil is less than a mike away. It's our only play."

"So, how you wanna do this?" Sonny asks. Quick and dirty may be his favorite way of doing things, but their brother was counting on them not making a mistake in the process.

"Ray and I will flank around them, take out the men at the front of the cabin. Sonny, you and Brock wait until their backup files out, then take them." Orders Jason. He looks at the prone figure on the ground, flashes of how they got into this mess raging in his mind. "It'll work; buy us enough time for exfil to arrive and to take care of him until they do." He didn't want to leave his two injured team members behind, but the brush was thick, and Clay was moving well enough to use his weapon. Jason just prayed that he wouldn't need to.

"Copy that."

"Let's do this."

Jason and Ray moved around into position, got the men in their sights, and fired. Soon enough three more men spilled out from the moderate sized cabin to see what the trouble was, only to drop dead themselves. Ray jumped up and moved towards the building with Jason on his heels with Brock and Sonny watching from outside. After a few seconds, Bravo Two deemed it clear and told Brock and Sonny to get Clay and Trent into the building.

Once there, everyone who could grabbed anything and everything that they could use. Ray watched the front and Sonny the rear. Jason cleaned Clay's head with a bottle of whiskey, which prompted the younger to shout out a string of expletives.

"No warn'ng?"

Jason grins. Even with a concussion, the kid still finds a way to complain about something. "Hold that still." He grabbed a fresh bandage, trades places with the towel, and secures it in place. He then hands Clay the package and says, "Watch this. Stay put."

"Brock," Jason walked over to Bravo Five, who is standing over Trent. They had cleared a metal table off and set their brother on top of it in the kitchen area. Brock had been looking Four over, and the better lighting told him what he feared.

"He's has internal bleeding. His abdomen is getting harder every few minutes, his breathing isn't great, and he still hasn't woken up." Brock sighs. He doesn't know how Trent managed to keep a level head out in the field when one of them was hurt. "He needs a transfusion. He's shown me a few times but… He needs a hospital, not me."

"Do what you can. We trust you."

Brock knew that Jason did. Knew that Trent would if he could speak for himself in that situation. With a firm nod, he set himself to work.

Jason was about to call HAVOC for an ETA on exfil when a voice tears from the front of the cabin.

"Guys, I've got movement!" calls Ray with urgency. No sooner had the words left his mouth did shots go sailing through the windows, peppering the doors and walls, causing all the men to take cover.

Sonny fires a few rounds, then calls out from the back, "They're surroundin' us!"

Jason runs to Sonny's side and helps his brother keep the insurgents at bay. When he looked over to see where Clay was, he was surprised and pleased to see the man giving Ray back-up at the front of the cabin. Brock was doing what he could with Trent, but the amount of fire they were taking meant that Jason had to do one thing he was wishing against.

"Brock!"

Bravo Five hesitates for a moment but knows he needs to join the fight. Readying his weapon, he takes aim out of the small kitchen window, mowing down the men who were baring down in his direction.

Something catches his shoulder and his vest simultaneously, sending his back into the ground. Seconds pass as he struggles for breath. Bullets continue to strike the area around him, causing glass and wood to pepper him as he lay on the ground. His first clear thought goes to getting Trent out of the line of fire, but when his eyes reach the table, it's empty.

Panic builds in his chest, confusion takes hold for one moment.

Then he sees his brother at the kitchen window, using his sidearm in his off hand to return fire.

Brock doesn't have time to question anything. He simply pushes aside his own pain to the back of his mind and joins Trent.

"HAVOC to all Bravo companies, exfil is inbound now." Blackburn's voice comes through the comms. "Get a move on! They can't wait forever."

"Backs clear for now! Movemovemove!" Jason orders his men. Sonny backtracks to grab Clay and the package while Ray lays down cover fire for them all from the front. Brock shoulders Trent as best he could manage, pulling and dragging his brother out of the cabin, away from the bullets and finally into the waiting exfil.

Jason takes up a cover position for Ray, tells him to haul tail.

"Last man!"

And Jason quickly follows to the waiting chopper.

Once all six men are aboard, they are quickly lifted into the air.

Not a second passes before someone shouts, "He's not breathing!"

 **Five hours later, local clinic**

Jason and Bravo Team sat around a waiting room in a local hospital. Well, clinic would be a more appropriate term. They were all a bit scrapped and bloodied, some more than others, but they got out. Brock had been taken to the back by a couple of nurses to check his shoulder and chest—which thankfully the bullet did not pierce through his vest—though he fought them on that matter until Jason ordered him to go.

Clay did not fight the doctors who wanted to take a look at his head wound, and the others figured that it had to be bad for him to go willingly. After a couple of hours, the doctor told them what they assumed; Spenser has a concussion and they wanted to keep him under observation, but if he was good, then he would be fine to travel with the others when the time came.

Trent was, for lack of a better term, hanging on by a thread. He coded on the chopper, but the head doctor told the team that Brock's—albeit crude looking—transfusion very well bought the soldier time for the medics to keep him stable enough to get to the clinic. There was only so much the doctor could do for Bravo Four though, and the goal was simply to keep him stable enough to make the trip to Cape Town where a team of American doctors and a better facility were waiting.

Upon seeing Brock walking towards them, Bravo Team got to their feet. Their eyes all silently asking him how he was, though if the sling was any indication of how his arm was, they already knew. It was Jason who broke the silence.

"How are you?"

"I'll live. One in the vest left a wicked bruise, one in my shoulder went straight through." He tells them with a tired sigh. "Any word on Trent or Clay?"

Jason fills his teammate in on what the doctor told them so far. "Blackburn is setting up transport. As soon as the doc gives the all clear, we're heading to Cape Town."

"Master Chief Hayes?" a heavy accented woman says. All eyes land on her, and though she addressed Jason, everyone was listening. "Your soldier is as stable as he is going to be for transport to Cape Town. And while I am against your moving him with the extent of his internal injuries, I realize that I cannot offer him the care he needs. We've done all that we can here. It will take a miracle for him to pull through, but his chances aren't here. You can tell your commander as such."

Jason nods grimly, "Thanks doc."

Less than an hour later, Bravo Team was loading up for the flight to Cape Town. No one said a word. All eyes were on their brother on a stretcher, the wires that were connected to machines, listening to the sound of _beepbeepbeep_ as the only indication Trent was even breathing. Even alive.

Yeah. They would need a miracle.

When they arrived at the hospital, a swarm of doctors and nurses ran Trent into the building, all shouting things across each other that no one fully understood. Clay was ushered inside as well, as they still wanted to monitor his concussion for a while longer. Everyone else followed suit, but Eric stopped them from getting any further.

"You all need rest. Food and a shower and sleep." He tells the men. "Davis will get you all squared away, and I'll stay here and keep an eye on our brothers."

It wasn't a direct order, but Blackburn left no room for arguments. Truth was they all needed to get off their feet; Brock wavered more than he wanted to admit, and Sonny could hardly keep his eyes open. Jason knew that it was the right call, but that didn't mean he agreed with it.

"As soon as you hear anything—" starts Hayes.

Blackburn nods. "You'll be my first call."

 **Six days later, State side.**

Spenser hadn't moved in at least three hours. Sure, he adjusted the position of his legs and took a drink from the bottle on a nearby table, but he didn't leave that uncomfortable chair. He probably should get up, move around and stretch, but he didn't want to take his eyes off of his brother in the bed across from him for one moment.

By some miracle Trent pulled through the first surgery Stateside with few problems. Only for things to go south a few hours later causing the man to need another surgery. Again, by some miracle, he's alive. But Trent still hadn't woken. Not when they were in South Africa, not on the flight back to the States. Bravo Team was really worried by now, but their own doctors told them that Trent's body experienced a lot of trauma on their mission. Time was what he needed to heal, but time meant that his brothers would continue to worry.

Brock had taken over for Clay a few hours later, still nursing his own wounds with a sling. There wasn't a lot to do, so he and Cerberus sat and waited, like they have been for the last six days.

"Don't tell me you've been sitting there like a creep?" comes a whisper from in front of him. Brock looks up from the worn book in his hand, and Cerberus stands and walks over to the bed, nosing the hand closest to the edge. "'Cus that's like…really weird."

"Hey, brother." Says Brock standing as well. "Good to see ya."

"Clay? Everyone else?" Trent asks. He knew he was in the hospital—a place he's been plenty of times—but he didn't know the status of his brothers. And that worried him.

"All fine." Brock smiles at Trent's need to know about the team over his own injuries. "Let's just worry about you, alright?"

Trent nods, lets his eyes close, tiredness coming over him like a wave. He hears Brock step out of the room, probably to get the guys and the doctor, but he doubts that he'll be awake when they get back.

So long as his brothers were all right, he would be fine.

 **AN: If you've made it this far, thank you for reading. I haven't posted anything in a long time, but I really wanted to do something for this fandom because I love SEAL Team and figured it was a good time to dip my feet back in. I have a lot of ideas that I plan on posting in this collection, but I don't know what my updating schedule will be like while I'm on break from university. I seem to be drawn to minor characters, so my ideas mostly surround Brock and Cerberus and Trent, but will include all of Bravo for the most part.**

 **Leave a review if you like. Follow for more (hopefully).**

 **Thank you again.**


	2. Stand by Me (Part 1)

**Hello again!**

 **Here is the first part of the second installment of my collection for SEAL Team. I hope you all like it. Enjoy!**

 **Warnings: about what you would see/hear on the show. This is going to be heavy on Brock whump wise, a bit on Trent and some on Cerberus (but I can't hurt animals, even in my writing, so there isn't much), so take that with a grain of salt I guess.**

 **2: Stand by Me (Part 1)**

"Bravo One to HAVOC base, we're in position." Jason says as he keys his comms.

"That's a good copy, Bravo One. ISR shows that your target is still inside, but there are ten enemy combatants between you and the front door." Comes Lt. Commander Blackburn's reply.

"Copy." Jason turns to his team, "Ray on front point, Brock, Trent and Sonny loop around the back and cut any chance at an exit. Quick and clean."

Sonny lets out a low gruff, adjusting his weapon in his hands, "Not quick and dirty? C'mon boss."

Jason can't help but smile. "Moving in three…two…"

The dark Afghan house in the middle of nowhere was perfect for Bravo to grab a woman that Mandy had been dying to speak with, a woman Ellis believed could lead them to someone the CIA has been after for decades. Even with the potential chance at getting information from someone that could lead to the end of multiple terror networks in various countries across the globe, the risks were high, as always. The operation was approved quickly, and the team had a small window of operation to work with before the woman left country. However, they had to be careful as it was rumored that the woman's security was known for planting traps on their property to cover their escape tracks.

They knew that they would have a fight on their hands.

It should have been a quick grab and go. Not easy, just quick. But things did not go as planned.

"EXECUTE!"

All six men took out a guard—Sonny took out two—but the three remaining men ran back inside before the rest of Bravo's bullets could find their mark. Brock, with Cerberus, and Trent ran around back, Sonny trailing a few yards behind, weapons raised and ready to fire, expecting the woman to make a run for it. They were ready to grab her and head for exfil back to base should she come towards them. Gunfire continued to fill the night, likely alerting anyone who could be close that something was happening. They had to move quicker.

Trent and Brock were less than a yard away from the backdoor when Cerberus starting barking at a window to their left. A guard suddenly appears out of the dark with a large rifle and opened fire on the men. It swept the area, spraying the stone building, the ground, the trees and cars and anything else that was nearby. Sonny had time to dive behind a tree but watched in horror as the bullets knocked his brothers to the ground with ease.

In a fit of rage, Quinn opened fire on the guard as soon as he had an opening, three quick shots center mass. He was dead before he hit the ground.

And the gunfire in the house stopped soon after.

Sonny is on his feet, clearing the area out of habit, then stands over his brothers protectively as he keys his comm. "Bravo Three to HAVOC base! Men down, I repeat Bravos Four and Five are hit!"

"It's in…in the vest. I'm fine!" Trent grinds out as he rolls onto his side. Sonny goes to help him up, but Trent roughly shoves his hands away as he crawls to Brock's side. But he doesn't miss the way Bravo Four's face scrunches up in pain, or the nearly inaudible groan that passes his cracked lips. Or the wound on his right arm, as it bled through his clothes.

Jason jogs up to where the others are, with Ray and Clay holding a woman between them. She has blood on her dress, but no one wonders if it is her own or not. "What happened?" he asks when he sees two of his men down.

Sonny juts his head towards the reason for their current condition. "Bastard came out of nowhere."

"HAVOC to Bravo One, report?" Blackburn questions through the comms when he sees the team standing in one place. The trees in the back of the home made it hard to get a clear visual from ISR, but they clearly weren't moving. "What the hell just happened?"

Trent hasn't said anything, so Jason wasn't ready to give a report just yet. "Stand by, HAVOC. Over."

A pause. "Standing by. Over."

"Four?"

Trent pushes the inquiries aside, instead focusing on the man in front of him. Brock wasn't unconscious, but he wasn't fully awake either. Laying on his back, Trent shook him a bit to keep his eyes open. "Don't close those eyes, man. Keep 'em open! One, talk to him, I gotta look at his wounds… Dammit, Two check Cerberus' front left leg." He rattles off as he quickly pulls everything he needs from his med bag.

Jason kneels next to Brock, gets his attention, talks to him while Trent places piles of gauze onto the wound on his leg. He tries not to look at what their unofficial medic is doing, doesn't want Brock to focus on anything else but breathing and staying awake. But even that was hard for the wounded SEAL.

"There's…there's still so much blood…" Trent trails off, trying to find the source, trying to stop it. He runs his hand over Brock's torso and legs two, three times, doesn't find any wounds other than the one he just stuffed with gauze. His worry grows when Brock doesn't so much as wince at his touch. "Help me roll him onto his right side. Carefully, not too fast. Three, give me some light."

All members of Bravo Team remained silent as Trent worked. Ray finished checking Cerb over, having bandaged the bullet grazes on the canines' leg. Clay cuffed and gagged the woman to part of the car and took up watch with Sonny after rolling Brock to his side. Jason continued to talk to the SEAL, waiting for any word from Trent, when Bravo Five's eyes finally closed.

"Five? Bravo Five, wake up!" urges Jason. "Bravo Four, he's—"

"Just passed out. He's lost a lot of blood." Trent tells him without looking up. He mutters a curse under his breath, though his brothers still heard him.

"What? What is it? What's wrong?" someone asks, who it was, Trent couldn't tell. His vision had begun to dance, and he had to adjust his position slightly to get a better hold on the gauze he pressed against Brock's back. "Four?"

"The bullets…" he begins, wondering how he's going to give them the news. With Jason's help, Brock is laid on his back carefully. "He was closest to the shooter, took rounds to the front and back of his vest, likely bruised some ribs, maybe worse. One in his upper left leg, can't see how bad it is because of the amount of blood… and two bullets in his lower back. In this lighting I can't be positive, but… it looks like they are real close to his spine. It isn't bleeding as badly as the other, but I just can't see anything—"

"Shit." Jason stands up straighter, keys his comms, "Bravo One to HAVOC base, come in."

"Go for HAVOC base."

"Package is secure. We have a man down, requesting immediate exfil at our location with additional medical resources aboard." He says. "Have the base team standing by, it's… it's not good."

"That's a good copy, Bravo One. Medical exfil will be approximately two klicks from your location in two mikes." Eric says. "Exfil for the rest of you will arrive 10 mikes at the same location."

Jason hesitates, not liking the idea of being separated from his brothers, but Brock needed medical attention yesterday, and if medical exfil is going to arrive first, then so be it. "Good copy, HAVOC. Moving to exfil location now."

Swiftly, but with great care, the team rigs up a litter out of tree branches and tarp. Clay grabs the woman, Jason is on point, Ray brings up the rear, while Sonny and Trent, with Cerberus attached to his belt, carry the still unconscious Brock towards the exfil location.

Exfil had just handed when they finally arrived, a medic jumps off and meets them halfway. Bravo Four begins to tell him all he knows, what he thinks, and what treatment should be started en route. The medic nods and helps load Brock into the waiting chopper.

Trent steps back, prepared to stay behind with the rest of Bravo, but Jason is ready shaking his head, having read what Trent was thinking a mile away. "Go with them. Five needs you." He tells his brother. "Get yourself checked out. Cerb too."

Trent wants to argue, tell his team leader that he was fine and could wait with the others. Instead he resigns, nods, and climbs into the chopper with their canine teammate. His arm is burning, with blood continuing to run down freely. He should probably get that looked at.

No one liked the idea of being separated, but everyone understood. They would be reunited soon enough, and Brock would be fine and the intel this woman provided would be worth the blood, pain and suffering. Right?

No sooner had the chopper begun to fade into the night sky, did gunfire erupt around the men, save for Clay who was still holding onto the woman's arm. Sonny, Jason and Ray quickly took cover behind a few boulders, returned fire.

"Bravo Six to HAVOC! We're taking heavy fire!" Clay shouts into his comms. He returned fire as best he could from behind a tree, but he also had to keep a hold of their package.

A few seconds passed before the gunfire died away slightly, only for two men to step out into the open with something atop their shoulders.

"Incoming!"

"Get down!"

"Cover!"

Two explosions happened one after the other. First, Bravo team on the ground was sent reeling back as the solid ground turned into a shower of rocks and dirt. The second happened in the sky behind them, striking the chopper that carried their brothers.

"No!" someone shouts.

All recover quickly and take out the remaining men. It felt like hours passed before the last man finally fell, and when they had the night fell silent. Bravo turned to where they last saw the chopper, but they were unable to see anything in the darkness of night.

* * *

He didn't pass out.

Not when the RPG struck their chopper, not when it spun out of control, and not when it crashed into the dusty Afghan mountains. It happened fast, as it usually does, and all he could manage to do was hold on until the world stopped spinning. His vision faded in and out, black then white spots danced in strange motions, but he didn't pass out.

Trent gasped, inhaling more smoke than he wished when the world finally stilled. His vision was blurry, but he could see Cerberus' tail off in the distance, heard him growling like he had something in his mouth, could tell that the dog was doing something…

His hand crosses his chest, searches for the radio that it clipped to his vest. "B-Bravo Four to… HAVOC base. Come in, HAVOC base, over."

Static.

"Bravo Four to Bravo One, do you read me?"

Nothing.

"Bravo Four to all call signs—" He tried to sit up, tried to gather his bearings, but a sharp pain shot through his side, above his right hip, but below his vest.

"Ah, sh—" he couldn't sit up enough to look at it, but with his hands figured he had a piece of something metal embedded in his side, about the length of his hand. Every bit of medical knowledge Trent had told him to leave the object in—it could be preventing him from bleeding out in the wreckage of the chopper right there, but he couldn't stay there and really didn't want to risk moving with it still in his side.

So, it had to come out.

Taking a deep breath, Trent presses his fingers around the wound, trying to determine out how deep it was embedded. He figured that it wasn't too deep, but it wasn't shallow either. He didn't see his medical kit nearby, so against his wishes, he left the object in and worked on getting free.

Fu…

…change of plans.

While it was dark, he was able to look in front of him, and is welcomed with the sight of the remains of the pilot and co-pilot. To his right was the trail of the wreckage, fiery metal, pieces of the chopper that were still ablaze. He glanced to his left, didn't see the medic anywhere… saw his weapon, grabbed it and carefully…painfully pulled it back over his shoulder… didn't see Brock…

But Cerberus…

 _Brock!_

"B-Brock—"

It took a lot effort on his part, but he managed to push chunks of the chopper off of his legs—discovered that it was indeed a piece of metal embedded in his side—and proceeded to crawl towards the still growling Cerberus. He ignored the tug in his lungs, the fire that engulfed his side, the way his vision doubled without his consent. He pulled himself forward until he reached the opposite side of the chopper, then used his legs as much as he could to continue to propel himself in a forward motion when his arms began to burn. Finally, Trent was on the ground, and, in the fire light, was able to see what Cerb was doing.

The dog had a mouth full of debris, was trying to move and pull and dig all at the same time. Brock was laying on the ground, partially covered by what looks like some of their gear and parts of the chopper. Somehow, Trent got to his feet, and managed to stumble to his teammate's sides. He jumps in right away, aiding Cerb in clearing bits of the wreckage off of Brock, trying to be mindful of his own wound. When it was clear, the dog nudged his handler, licking his dirt and blood covered face, trying to wake him up.

"I think he's out for the count, boy." Trent mutters, mostly to himself, as he checks Bravo Five's pulse, pleased and relieved to find one. But that didn't stop the canine from trying, even when it proved to be fruitless. _How did you even get over here?_ Trent ponders, then spies the damaged clip that was once attached to his belt. _Ah…_

Trent shakes his head—regrets it—then takes a few seconds to gather his wits and form a plan.

They weren't in the air long before the RPG struck, so they were still in heavy enemy territory. It was dark, they had maybe eight hours of night left, which means that it would be hard to see the smoke that still billowed from the wreck. However, that didn't mean that hostiles tracked where they crashed, and were heading right for them to do… nothing good. But that also meant that it would be hard to track them as they escaped.

He hoped.

Successfully getting back to base was probably out of the question, or at least off of the table of consideration given how he currently felt, how injured Brock was. So, finding shelter that he would be able to defend was what he would look for. He could work on fixing his radio, call for Bravo to come pick them up.

Yeah, that was a solid plan.

Pulling himself to his feet, Trent searches the wreck for anything and everything he can use. He grabs the much needed med kit, which looks to be in tact in spite of a few burned holes, another rifle, extra mags, water, MREs and a few other things he'll surely need. Next he needed to figure out how to transport Brock… and then to where. He couldn't drag him, not if he wanted to lead any hostiles right to them, so a litter was out of consideration.

 _If your brother can't walk…carry him._

He'd carry him.

But he couldn't do that with a piece of metal in his side.

With a deep sigh, Trent takes note of all the medical supplies he has, figures out what he can use for himself right then and gets to work.

Bravo Four tears his shirt and uses his headlight to get a better look at his wound and what he was dealing with. He stifles a groan when he grips the cool, discolored metal between his fingers, takes a deep breath and pulls it out before he talks himself out of this plan. Blood flowed freely and he set to patching himself up, wanting to leave as little trace of him being there as possible. He staples the wound shut as quickly as he could and covered it with gauze and tape before pulling his shirt back down. The bullet just grazed his bicep, so he quickly wrapped that with gauze, taping the end down.

All of the sudden, breathing hurt.

Trent fights the growing urge to close his eyes and rest. He couldn't do that. He had to get to safety. Had to take care of Brock and Cerberus.

He calls the canine over, who is as reluctant to leave his handlers side as expected. When the dog does limp to his side, Trent changes the bandages on his paw and searches for any more that he may have gained in the crash. Thankfully, the dog is relatively unhurt.

Which is good, considering the state of the two SEALs. He might be their last line of defense.

 _Can't think like that…_

When he gets to his feet, Trent finds himself renewed with energy. It was now or never.

Trent blocks out his own pain as he bends down and expertly places the still unconscious Brock over his shoulders, mindful of Bravo Five's wounds as best he can be. With his weapon ready in his left hand, holding tight to his brother with his right hand, supplies on his back and Cerberus by his side, Bravo Four begins the trek through the dark, dry Afghan terrain.

 **AN:** **Thank you all for favoriting and/or following and/or for the kind, welcoming words. I was a bit nervous getting back into this and wasn't sure how this small fandom would react to fics that aren't about the Core Four (Jason, Ray, Clay and Sonny). But I think you all seem to like it. Leave a review with your thoughts and follow if you haven't.**

 **Part 2 is nearly finished, so that will come this weekend (at least, that's my current plan). Happy New Year!**


	3. Stand by Me (Part 2)

**AN: I'm so glad SEAL Team is back with new episodes.**

 **Thanks for all the kind words on the first part of this two-shot. Here is part two. I hope you all enjoy. :)**

 **2: Stand by Me (Part 2)**

Trent sat on the ground, leaning against the rock wall opposite of a motionless Brock. He watched his brother with careful eyes, watched his breathing, for any sign of things going south, which was very likely considering his condition and their current situation. Cerberus was laying close to Brock's side, protecting him, nursing his own wound. Bravo Four was holding a wad of bloody bandages against his side that had opened up again during his walk across rough terrain. He tried to staunch the bleeding as best he could, but between the three of them there wasn't much gauze left for him to use. Trent did what he could with what he had, but things were looking really slim.

By his calculations, Trent figured they had been separated from the rest of Bravo Team for somewhere north of five hours—which means that it has been north of five hours since they were attacked.

Five hours since Brock was shot…

Five hours since their chopper crashed…

Five hours since he pulled a piece of metal from his side… meaning that they had around three hours of night left.

The good news was he managed to spot a cave of sorts in the moonlight three hours ago. It wasn't very big, about the side of a standard American truck in length, deep enough to be hidden from passerby's from afar. He could kneel without hitting his head on the rocky ceiling, but anything above that was begging for a concussion. _Thank goodness for helmets_ …

Between the gear that he and Brock had—man was he thankful that they didn't remove his pack when shit hit the fan—they could remain out there for maybe another day before needing to consider rations. But the state of their injuries would cut that down a lot… He looked at the mess of radio, upset that he still hadn't fixed it. But with the growing weight of his eyelids, he just couldn't focus on it any longer. _Good 'ol blood loss_ , he figured. What wasn't going to be enough to stop him though. He just needed to rest for a little bit.

 _Just for a minute…_

With his weapon in hand and ears attentive, Trent leans against the wall and closes his eyes.

* * *

When he first woke up, everything hit him at once. The smell of dry soil, foliage, the sight and heat from a small fire that was within arm's reach and the sound of wind. His chest hurt some, but it wasn't terrible. Moving his head to the left and right, he tries to gather his bearings some, spotting boot tracks and paw prints heading for… what looks like a cave opening. Or cave tunnel. Was it even a cave? It was hard to tell. Too dark. Hard to focus on that… hard to focus on anything…

He relaxes some and lets his head lull back to the side, the effort of keeping it in one position was taking a toll on the rest of his body. Nothing was adding up in his muddled head. He was tired. Had to rest…

When he woke the second time, the scene was different. It was darker than before. Or was it? It was definitely colder. He shivers, which causes something at his side to shift and move closer to his face.

 _…_ _Cerberus?_

"Someone's glad to see you awake." A voice says. He looks up a bit more at the man kneeling over him. He looks familiar… what was his name again? "Don't strain yourself so quickly. Just rest. Take it easy."

His mouth was dry. The man picked up on this, helped him drink water by holding his head. After having enough to wet his mouth, he manages to find the words to ask, "W-what…what happened?" and it wasn't aimed at his own needs. He could see dark spots on the other man's clothes in the dim light of the fire. He cared for this man… like a brother. He had to make sure that he was okay. Right?

"Don't worry about me, okay?" the man—his brother—tells him with a pat on his leg. His brother hesitates, just slightly, but it was enough for him to catch. "I'm going to put more wood on the fire, but I can't make it very big. Just enough to keep you warm."

Realization washes over him. Something was wrong…

"Hey… T-Trent?" he begins, trying to find the words. Cerberus presses closer to his body, burrowing his snout into his neck and shoulder. He doesn't want to say what he's thinking, doesn't want to say what he already fears, because saying the words makes it real. But he does anyway. "I… I c-can't feel my l-legs."

Trent looks at Brock, doesn't let his emotions cross his face. Instead, Bravo Four nods, continues to ignore the pain of his own injuries. "I know, brother. I know."

Trent reaches into his bag as pain crosses Brock's face and his breathing quickens. He didn't want to put him to sleep, but Bravo Five needed to rest for what was coming next. He gives Brock a dose of morphine and waits for it to takes effect, waits for it to knock Bravo Five out. He needed to rest, had already been through a lot. They both have.

* * *

"Anything new?"

"ISR of the area showed two persons and a dog leaving the wreckage but loses them in the mountains about two hours later." Blackburn looks up from the computer he has been staring at. "We haven't picked up any trace of them since.

"Trent and Brock? Cerberus?"

Eric shakes his head. "Can't confirm."

Hayes runs a hand over his face. It had hours since the RPG took out their chopper, hours since they lost contact with their brothers. To say that the rest of Bravo was anxious to get out there and find them, bring them back, would be understating things greatly.

But it was too dangerous to go out blindly.

"What state were they in?" Were they injured? And if so, how badly? If they were moving, then it couldn't be too bad. Right?

"I'm sorry, Jason. But it doesn't look good."

Lisa Davis stands to her feet, making her presence known to Jason for the first time since he's been in HAVOC—which has been since they got back. "Things just got worse. We picked up chatter that guards of the woman Ellis wanted to talk to are gearing up to go to find the wreck at first light. And if they find the wreck, they could track whoever walked away to the mountains."

"So, we start in the mountains, find their trail and get them out before that happens."

Blackburn is already shaking his head, not liking the idea, "Jason, we can't—"

"Our brothers are out there! Brock's got a bullet in his spine for god sake! And who knows what kind of state Trent or the others are in after that crash!" he shouts. No one in the room pays him any mind, use to reactions like this. Jason calms down a bit, adding, "It's gonna be daylight soon; if we don't go now, we lose the element of surprise on anyone who tries to track them. It's the best chance we've got, and you know it."

Eric did know it. Jason was right. "I'm not going to risk sending another team to watch your backs on this one, Hayes. The territory is just too rough…"

"We'll be fine. We'll get 'em, bring 'em back."

"Bring them back." Lt. Commander Blackburn nods, watches Jason leave to tell the rest of his men to gear up, though the chances of them ever taking off their gear was very slim. He could only hope that they didn't die trying.

* * *

Trent snaps awake and sits up when he feels something nudging him, pulling at his clothes. Once he recognizes that he isn't in imminent danger, his eyes narrow, landing on Cerb who is dancing to his side in circles. Then he sees Brock, who is awake and staring at the rock above him.

Crawling to Bravo Five's side, Trent places a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Hey."

Tired eyes and a half smile land on him, though for a second it doesn't seem genuine. "H-hey."

"How're you feeling?" This is the first time Brock's been awake long enough to talk since, what, a few minutes ago? Yes, just a few, short, well rested minutes. Now Trent needed to figure out the extent of his brothers' injuries.

A sincere chuckle passes through Bravo Five's lips. "Everything's… dull." He says after a few moments pass. "I can't… move my legs, just feel a dull pressure in my back."

Trent nods, pulling items from his bag and med kit. After giving Cerberus water in a collapsible dish, Bravo Four turns his full attention back to Bravo Five. He wants to ask if he can feel any pain from the wound on his left leg, but doesn't, not wanting to overload the man. "Okay, okay, that's good."

"That's…one word for i-it."

"I need to look at the wound on your back."

Brock sighs, coughing a few times. "Was 'fraid you'd… say t-that."

Truth was, Brock didn't want to move for two reasons. First, he didn't want the pressure to increase, because that would cause Trent to use more medicine on him rather than taking care of the wound on his side and arm and where ever else he may be injured. It would take a lot for Trent to admit that he was hurting, even if Brock could see the still growing blood stains on his clothes.

And secondly, he didn't want to move because doing so may not actually cause him any pain. And if he doesn't feel any pain, then…

He couldn't decide which was worse.

"I'm gonna roll you onto your right side, okay? I'll do all the work, you just focus on breathing."

Yeah, he could do that.

"One… two…"

As soon as Trent began to roll him, the one thing he was supposed to be able to do became increasingly difficult. He grits his teeth, tries to bear it, but his gasping is enough to get Trent to stop.

"Talk to me, Brock. What're you feeling?"

Once he was on his back, breathing became a little easier. "It felt…like something moved." He tells Trent between short breaths. His eyes remain closed as he says, "I've broken my ribs enough to r-recognize that feeling."

Trent sighs. He didn't want to risk piercing Brock's lungs in an effort to take a look at the severity of his back wound. He peers out towards their small cave opening, noticing how the darkness fades ever so slightly.

"You have better things to worry about right now, Trent." Brock says all of the sudden. "And it isn't me." He motions to the pile of radios.

"Not until after I take care of your wounds." Trent argues.

"You need to t-take care of yourself, find a way to reach the t-team." Bravo Five closes his eyes once more, tries to breathe through the pressure as it turns into pain. He feels Cerberus press closer to the side of his chest, comforting him. "Besides… I-I'm not going anywhere."

Brock was out cold before Trent could utter a comeback.

* * *

Jason and the rest of Bravo Team did double time through the Afghan mountains, led by Blackburn and ISR in the sky. After they located the chopper crash site, the team assessed the situation and reported back.

"The pilot and co-pilot are dead." Clay says after looking at the cockpit. "There's blood here in the back, a small trail that leads to the ground over there. And I've got a bloody piece of metal."

Ray nods. "Dog tracks by the two different spots of blood; Cerb dug someone out. Looks like he had help too."

"Found the medic." Sonny gloomily says as he comes up to the rest of the team. He and Jason did a radius search of the surrounding area, while Ray and Clay examined the crash site. "'Bout two klicks back that way."

No one wanted to breathe a sigh of relief just yet. They did not find Trent, Brock and Cerberus at the crash site, but that only means they are still out there in the mountains with hostiles hot on their trail. Dawn would arrive before long, and ISR in the sky they knew that the enemy already had a head start.

"Bravo One to HAVOC base, come in."

"Go for HAVOC base."

"That's a negative on Bravos Four and Five at our location. Looks like they got out, but there's a bit of blood here." Jason pauses, trying not to think about the state his brothers are in. "Send a team to recover the crash site; we're picking up the pace. How copy?"

"That's a good copy, Bravo One. You have a clear shot from your position to the mountains but be advised that ISR might lose you once you arrive." Lt. Commander Blackburn replies. "Medical exfil is standing by, just say the word."

"Copy that, HAVOC. Bravo out."

Bravo Team increased their speed into a moderate jog, renewed with a fresh focus to find their brothers. ISR showed that the hostiles have arrived at the mountains but couldn't keep track of them. Blackburn told the team that it was about the size of a small army, and if that small army found their boys…

They continued at that speed until dawn broke, slowly slightly as they came up on the mountains. Weapons hot, Bravo began their search, knowing in the back of their heads that they were on their own and that it was up to them to get to Brock and Trent and Cerberus before the hostiles did.

Sonny was the first to spot two armed men at the base of a hill. They were likely scouts but were preoccupied with other things at the moment. Clay and Ray lined up a shot, and the men never knew what hit them. Pressing forward, the team works their way through the hills and small valleys, looking for any trace of their missing brothers. When the all too familiar sound of gunfire peaked in the early morning hours, they knew that had to be their men.

* * *

The hours ticked by, bringing the first sign of daylight with it. Trent peered up from the former mess of wires at the sunlight that worked its way into the small cave-like area. He was nearly finished, knew he nearly had the radio in working order. He just had to connect a few more wires, would be able to contact HAVOC—

Cerberus standing up suddenly caught his attention. The dog, having previously been laying by Brock's resting side, was now standing over his feet in a protective manner, bearing teeth and a low growl that one would miss if it wasn't silent in the cave. Trent watched as Brock came to, noticing the change in Cerb. The two men share a look, both coming to the same thought.

Trent sets the radio on the ground, pick up his weapon and walks to the opening. He pauses, listens, doesn't see anything. Doesn't hear anything. He shakes his head, silently telling Brock.

"Somethings… somethings out there." Bravo Five whispers in response. He has worked with Cerberus for a long time now. They understood each other, knew each other's tells, knew how to communicate. If something caught the canine members attention, then it was worth checking out.

"Okay."

Trent walks back into the cave, mutters an apology, and painfully drags Brock as far back into the cave as he can. He then grabs the packs, the water and the extra rifle and Brock's sidearm so that everything is within arm's reach of the wounded SEAL. "I need you to twist these wires together, snap the cover back on top. It should be enough to send out a signal HAVOC can trace. I'm going to do a sweep of the area, try to find out what got Cerb's attention." He tells the canine to stay, wanting Cerberus to protect Brock while he was out.

Brock shivers, which did not go unnoticed by Trent. "S-shouldn't he go… with you?"

Bravo Four is already at the opening of the cave, weapon held in hand. "If he did that then who'd watch your ass?"

Dusk in Afghan was nothing new to Bravo Four. Once out into the sandy air as the sun continued to climb in the sky, Trent took each step with great caution. He looks around the area, doesn't see anything that tells him there are hostiles are in the area, but that doesn't mean he can't be careful. In fact, he'll be more careful because of it. Something drew Cerberus' attention, and he needed to figure out what it was, and take care of it if need be.

Trent backtracks down the hills, careful not to step on loose rocks or branches. Staying low to the ground, he looks to his right where he sees the wide, open, dry landscape and to the right much of the same.

That, and the small army of men heading in his direction.

And they would be on his location within a handful of minutes.

Going back to the cave, Trent relays what he saw to Brock, who had finished the twisting the wires on the radio but appeared weaker than when Trent left. He didn't bother asking if he was able to get a message to HAVOC, instead Bravo Four knelt beside Bravo Five and checked him over with careful eyes.

"Wha took… s'long?" Brock says through pained breathes.

"Dammit, Brock…" Trent trails off upon realizing that something was wrong and felt along Bravo Five's sides. Yep, it feels like part of his rib shifted…might have nicked his lungs which he was working on the radio. "I shouldn't have—"

Trent worries that the mount of blood that Brock has lost has already opened the door to delirium. He couldn't fight off sepsis for long, so infection likely already set in. The sight a fresh puddle of blood that seeped out from under Brock stained Trent's pants as he knelt by his side sent a fresh wave of fear through his body.

He only has a couple pads of gauze left. Without hesitation, Trent slides them under Brock, who didn't make a sound at being moved. He didn't have time to check the wound on his leg, and could only hope that he was able to buy the man time until Bravo came. Trent realizes that he's done all he can for Brock… now he just had to hold off a small army until their brothers arrived.

He heads back outside, begins climbing the hills away from the cave where Brock and Cerberus are hidden. He didn't want the hostiles to find him, so he went as far as he could manage while keeping a good vantage point of the area. Then he lay on his stomach, not even worried that he can't feel the wound on his side anymore, or the tug on his arm from where he was shot. No, the only thing Trent is focused on is eliminating the hostiles below.

Of protecting Brock and Cerberus.

With practiced aim, he lines up a shot with his rifle, breathes, and takes out as many men as he can before they can hone in on his position. When the bullets start striking the ground around him, he rolls away and goes to another location to his left, repeating his previous actions from behind a rock.

One after another the hostiles go down, but it seems after one or two fall, five or six take his place. Trent changed his magazine two, three times before pulling out his side arm and ducking for cover behind a boulder. He fights to catch his breath, does, then returns fire once more.

One of the hostiles bullets narrowly misses his head, strikes a tree instead. When Trent peers around the tree, he sees a man aiming an RPG. He fires one shot and the man falls quickly. He checks his ammo, only half a magazine left. He has a blade sheathed in his belt but isn't sure how far he would get before he was mowed down.

Just when he was getting ready to take aim once more, the sound of bullets coming from the opposite direction fills the air. He waits a beat, doesn't risk looking around the tree, until he is sure of what his brain is trying to convince him…

 _Bravo—_

Movement from across the distance draws Trent's attention away from what was happening behind him. Instead, he spies two hostiles carefully making their way toward the cave… following something that speckled the ground.

Trent is on his feet, running faster, pushing himself to get there in time. He rides his heels as he slides down the hill, is greeted first with the sound of Cerberus being none to gentle with one of the hostiles, having pinned the man to the ground with a mouthful of the hostiles arm.

Bravo Four runs to stop the other hostile from reaching Brock. He quickly has the man in a chokehold, and is pushed back into the rock wall, soon after hears something crack. But he doesn't let go. Still the hostile struggles, not having yet run out of oxygen. Trent keeps the hold on the man, even as the hostile throws his elbow back into his injured side.

After a few seconds Trent and the hostile fall to the ground, with Bravo Four finally gaining the upper hand. When it seemed that the enemy would have enough strength to get to his feet and throw Trent across the small cave, Trent brings his arms around quickly, effectively snapping the man's neck.

They fall at the same time.

Trent pushes himself up and off the hostile, only to collapse again. Trent repeats this until he is by Brock's side. His shaking hand reaches up, searches for a pulse…can't find one.

Searches again…

…waits…

…it's faint, but there.

He exhales, pulls himself to his feet—painfully—with help from the rock wall next to Brock and stands in front of his brother. Cerberus has released the other attacker, who is either dead or wishing he was dead, and now guards the opening, protecting the SEALs from what else may come their way.

Bravo Four draws his weapon, not remembering ever holstering it, and aimed at the opening that Cerb was growling at. The bright sun turns into shade as figures step into the cave, too many to count. Their weapons are raised, and he is ready to make his final stand—

"Eagle, eagle!" reaches his ears, giving him pause. "Eagle… Bravo Four, stand down."

That voice, Trent knew it. He blinks, the image in front of him clears. "Jase—?" the name passes his bloody lips, but it isn't enough to make him believe it.

"Easy, Bravo Four." Jason approaches carefully, reaches out and takes Trent's weapon and tucks it into his waistband. He places a hand on his brothers shoulder, saying, "We got you."

Trent is wholly convinced now and returns the gesture that Jason offered. "Jason—Brock, he… he's not, uh—" he looks back as he brother, at how pale is he, how Cerberus refuses to leave his side, even as someone pulls on his collar. His legs can't hold up any longer. Jason catches him before he hits the ground.

"You don't gotta worry about him anymore. The medics got him now. Okay. You did good." Jason tries to keep Trent calm and talking, but soon it becomes too hard to keep Bravo Four awake.

Trent's breathing quickens. As Jason holds him upright, he looks his team leader in the eyes. He coughs, blood spilling out of his mouth. Somehow, he manages a smile and tells Hayes, "T-thanks for… f-for comin' for us."

Then he passes out, slumping forward into Jason's arms.

* * *

"They need to be intubated yesterday!"

"Start a line for both of them! Now!"

"His bleeding is starting up again… the staples won't hold."

"He's septic. Tell the OR to have all the O-neg blood they have ready for both of them."

"What's our ETA?"

"ETA three mikes."

"Cut that in half or these soldiers aren't going to make it!"

* * *

Bravo Team sat, stood or paced in the base hospital. When they landed, Trent and Brock were rushed into surgery, without a word from the doctor about their conditions. Canine handlers had to take Cerberus to the vet to get looked at himself, but the dog refused to leave Brock's side as he was wheeled from the chopper to the waiting OR. They didn't want to, but the lead vet had to come to the hospital and sedate Bravo's canine teammate because the dog was getting more and more aggressive the further Brock got.

That was three hours ago.

Commander Blackburn walked through the doors, not surprised to see Bravo sprawled out around the waiting room and hall. All eyes landed on him. He takes in the looks of tired, worn out faces. "Any news?" he asks, though any at this point couldn't yield good news.

"Not a word." Says Jason. He pushes himself off the wall, folds his arms across his chest. "Mandy get that lady to crack?"

Blackburn could tell that Hayes, and the rest of the team for that matter, did not want to know about the reason why they were in this current situation. They didn't care about her. No, it was more a formality. In reality, they all wanted to know if the blood spilt, their brothers' blood, was worth the cost.

"Nothing yet. Ellis will get something." The commander says. "You all go get cleaned up, get some food and rest. I'll wait here for the doc."

The protests began no sooner than the words left his mouth, but Blackburn had prepared for such a response. "That wasn't a request. I'll let you know any news as soon as I hear."

Jason finally nods, and his team falls into step behind him. All take one more glance at the double doors that separated them from Trent and Brock before leaving the hospital to get some rest.

* * *

 _Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

That was the first sound he heard when he left the sweet comfort of darkness. He wasn't ready to open his tired eyes yet, so he listened, waited.

"…and then I finished tying off the stitch and cut the thread, but he told me that I didn't secure it enough. I argued his point, but when he started bleeding again, he just gave me a look and did it himself."

"Yeah, I remember that. He refuses to let any of us stitch him up; he's gotta be out cold or else he's gonna do it himself."

"Fine by me. I can't stand threadin' needles through another man's skin."

"Wuss."

 _I know those voices…_

He hurt. All over. Breathing hurt, but he had help, could tell by the constant tickle that went into this nose. His side hurt, but he could tell there was something in place to keep the pain at bay. His back hurt… everything hurt. He could deal with the pain, has done it before. He wanted to open his eyes now, but he tried and it was much harder than he thought it would be. Why was this so hard?

The voices died away.

He was alone.

No, that's not right.

"Hey… I think he's comin' around."

 _Who's coming around?_

 _…_ _wait…_

"Trent? You with us?" someone says. He knows that voice, can see their face in his head, just not with his eyes. Panic starts to creep in when he can't open his eyes. "Relax, you're okay. We're here."

"Take your time. We ain't leaving."

"C'mon, buddy, open those pretty eyes for us."

Time passes. One second or one hour, doesn't matter. He manages to crack his eyes open and is greeted with blurry images. He blinks, clears the images. Sees people he knows. Right?

"Hey, brother. You gave us a real scare." The man to his right says. Ray, that's his name. Trent looks at the other familiar faces, sees Jason. Sonny. Clay.

Someone is missing.

Everything came flooding back to his memory at once.

His mouth is dry and puffy. He knows the reason behind that but tries to speak anyway. Just one word, one name. He had to know.

"B-Brock…?" it's broken, but there.

Solemn eyes go back and forth from the man in the bed to the other men in the room. Finally, it was Jason who spoke up, knowing that there was no reason to keep anything from their brother. Especially after what he's been through.

"He's alive." He says slowly, but before Trent can relax, he adds, "But it's not good."

Trent stares at Jason for a second, processing the information.

And then begins to push the covers off of his body, trying to get his legs over the edge and onto the floor. Four sets of hands are grabbing him, gently pulling the injured man back into bed. He heard someone talking, probably telling him that in his condition he shouldn't be moving let alone walking.

But he didn't care.

He needed to see Brock with his own eyes.

Because the last memory Trent had of Brock was of him bleeding out in a small Afghan cave.

"I need… I need to see him." He says between gasps of air. He had successfully removed his IV, discarded the nasal cannula somewhere on the floor, but firm hands held him in place on the bed. Somehow the tray with a pitcher of water ended up on the floor with a loud crash. More people ran into the room.

"What's going on in here?" Lt. Commander Blackburn asks as he stops, looks around. He turns to the bed, sees Bravo team trying to hold Trent down, but the injured medic is putting up a good fight and the others clearly don't want to hurt him anymore.

"He wants to see Brock." Clay tells the Commander while pinning Trent's right leg to the bed.

A doctor arrives not long after, tells a nurse to get a sedative ready.

"Hold off on that," Eric says. He knows how Trent can be protective of his brothers, being the team medic and all. There is no way that man will rest unless he has visual proof that Brock is alive. "Can I get a wheelchair in here?"

"Lt. Commander, I strongly advise against moving my patient. He's only been out of surgery for a few hours, his injuries are serious and—"

"If you want Trent calm enough to get the care he needs, then he needs to see Brock." Eric tells the doctor. "And if there isn't a wheelchair in this place, then I'm sure one of these men with carry him down the hall."

Realizing it wasn't worth the soldier's pain, the doctor nods, telling a nurse to get a wheelchair for Trent. Once he was situated and ready with a dose of pain meds, a fresh IV in his arm and a new nasal cannula tucked under his nose, Jason pushed him down the hall until they reached the ICU with Sonny, Ray and Clay following behind.

"Trent, I just want you to know that you did everything you could." Jason tells him. Trent realizes that it must be really bad if Hayes it trying to comfort him before he's seen Brock. "This isn't on you. Okay?"

All Trent can manage to do is nod.

Jason pushes him through the double doors, down another short hall, and up to a room with a sliding glass door. This is when everyone noticed the prone canine on the floor of Brock's room.

Cerberus was lying next to the bed. Eyes wide open, as if scanning the area for any threats. After his own wounds were cleaned and he got some fluids, he threw a fit in the kennel. He didn't eat. He refused to rest. Only when the vet allowed him to go back to the base once Brock was out of surgery did the canine finally settle down. It was as if he knew something was wrong with his human. Which is why he had to protect him.

Trent lets out a shaky breath as he sees Brock in the bed Cerberus was guarding. He was too pale, to still. A tube down his throat was breathing for him, more wires attached to different spots on his body. Trent knew what they were for, but his muddled brain made it hard to think about those reasons.

After a few minutes of silence, Trent asks through pained breathes, "What have the doctors said?"

Jason really wished he didn't ask that.

Because he knew what to say, the words of the doctor regarding Bravo Five were burned into his brain, still rung in his ears. Trent deserved to know. Then they could get him back to bed, let him rest his tired, wounded body.

"Trent—"

"No, Jason. Just…" Trent shifts his body slightly, trying to get away from the pain in his side. "Just tell me. How bad is it?"

"The bullets were really close to his spine, just like you thought. They were able to remove one of them with few problems, but the second was… it's touching a nerve or something. They couldn't remove it just yet and—" Jason lets out a ragged breath of his own. "He's paralyzed. They don't know how bad it is, or for how long…"

Trent hears the words, knows what they mean and what Jason is telling him, but he can't believe it. Even when his brain tells him that was the likely outcome regardless of his actions.

Bravo Team sat and stood in the hall, looking at their brother, hoping and praying that Brock will pull through.

 **AN: So, I hope you don't hate the way I ended this. But I have a strong dislike for stories brushing over serious injuries (like regarding the spine, for example) with time jumps or not addressing it at all. This is the end for "Stand by Me", but I hope to do a stand alone fic about Brock and Cerberus as he recovers and works his way back to Bravo (if he can ;)).**

 **In the mean time, I hope to throw on more fic at you before I go back to university.**

 **As always, thanks for taking the time to read my stories. Follow if you aren't already and leave a review with your thoughts.**


	4. Blind Faith (Part 1)

**AN: I wanted to explore why Cerberus is such an important member of Bravo Team. Thus, this came to be.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **UPDATED 1/25/19: I really didn't like my first post of part one. So I rewrote it, updated information, and added portions that are going to be important to the plot.**

 **3: Blind Faith (Part 1)**

Plot: A rescue mission goes south, a team member goes MIA and Cerberus shows why he is a such a valued member of Bravo.

* * *

Jason Hayes has learned to accept many things during his time in the service. He has learned to tolerate things. But he has also learned there are some things that he just can't and won't accept, even if he is ordered to do so. He will speak his mind, let all involved know that he disagrees with the plan and, come hell or high water, make sure that his men are protect first, and the mission second. Or not at all. This does not mean that Jason Hayes will sit out missions; when Bravo Team is told to go, they go. That's what soldiers do. They follow orders. Even when they disagree with them

After nearly a week in the States running drills and catching up with family, the team was eager to get back to work. Bravo was sitting in the briefing room, waiting for Ellis to pull up the slides and start filling them in on their latest assignment. Jason was quick to notice the bleak look on the woman's face, and the matching ones on Blackburn and Davis. Something was up. And it wasn't good.

"Bravo Team is being sent on a time sensitive op. Details are still being compiled and more will come to us once we're in the air." Mandy tells the men. She has her arms folded across her chest, brows are furrowed. She doesn't pull up anything on the screen, doesn't have a map or picture or anything to show the team.

This is bad, the guys quickly pick up on it.

"Is… that all?" Clay asks with a chuckle. "That's all the info you have to give us right now?"

Mandy nods with pressed lips. "All I know is something is going down and it has all the agencies talking. The CIA director made some calls, decided to make the first move to get in country before anyone else does."

"So, what're we s'pose to do when we land?" asks Sonny. He is managing to keep his thoughts about this op to himself, but it is really hard to do so. "Fish? Snowshoe?"

Mandy realizes that Sonny was hinting at the fact that she didn't tell them where they were going. But she couldn't tell them information she doesn't have. "We hope to have enough intel by then to get you guys where you need to go."

"You 'hope'? C'mon, Mandy, you're better than that." Jason shakes his head, knows he speaks for the team. "How are we supposed to properly prepare for a mission if the people planning it are clueless?"

"I'm sorry, Jason, but I have my orders just as you have yours." She didn't like it. None of them did. But that's how the system worked.

Eric Blackburn crosses the room when the conversation falls into a lull. "Brass is being tight-lipped about this one for reasons I am still working out. As soon as details become available, you all will be notified. Wheels up in thirty."

 **In Country**

"HAVOC, this is One. How're we looking?"

"We read you, One. Your path to the target building is clear. You have the green light to proceed."

"Copy." Jason motions to his men, signaling Bravo to move forward.

In flight, Bravo Team was informed that they were rescuing an American trapped in rural German territory. Bravo was simply supposed to get the American and get out, but as they were prepping, new intel suggested the hostiles that had overtaken the area were preparing for something much larger, but the CIA didn't know what. The CIA was in contact with the German military, but for the most part, the Navy were on their own.

In HAVOC base, they watched as the hostiles had stormed a resort soon after Mandy gave them this news, killing resisting foreigners in an effort to gain control of the resort. Davis was able to get eyes inside, and they watched as person after person was gunned down or run through.

Jason led Bravo through the thick forest, their steps silent on the snow covered earth beneath their boots. When the seven story, wood and stone building came into view, Kairos, Trent, Ray and Clay broke left to take the back, while Jason, Sonny, and Brock with Cerberus attached to his belt, went right to take the front.

ISR in the sky let Bravo know there were a few hostiles posted outside of the resort, which the team quickly took care of. Davis still had eyes inside and she relayed that the hostiles were now rounding guests up and taking them to the kitchen downstairs. However, a few guests managed to escape and run for the stairs but armed men quickly followed them.

Jason keys his comms. "HAVOC, this is One. Any location on our package?"

"That's a good copy One. We have confirmation that our package is one of the guests who escaped the hostiles before they were taken to the kitchen. We have them exiting the fourth-floor stairwell, north side of the building." Blackburn says. "Be advised that armed hostiles are currently searching the second and third floors for the guests."

"Good copy, HAVOC. Bravo One out." Jason says before giving the team their orders. "Two, take Seven and sweep east. Meet me at the kitchen and we'll work on controlling the situation. The rest of you clear the floors working up and get our package."

Sonny and Brock make their way towards the north staircase, weapons raised and ready. Bravo Three took point in clearing the stairs, and when they were at the landing, Bravo Five was first though the door with Cerberus. Together they worked their ways across the second floor.

It was a long hall. Rooms on the right were spaced every twenty feet and the wall to their left was of an elaborate mural of the German landscape. Room after room they cleared, found nothing. No hostiles. Kept going. One dead hostage. They moved on after confirming that it wasn't their package.

Sonny and Brock repeated these actions on the fourth floor, knowing that Trent and Clay were clearing the second. HAVOC told them that they saw their package exit on this floor, so they were prepared to find them or the enemy. Or both.

Soon after clearing the first few rooms, Cerberus began to act odd, pulling Brock forward towards one of the rooms in the middle of the hall, stopping in front of the door. The dog nearly sat, which would signal the SEALs that there was a bomb nearby, but the canine caught scent of something else and repeated his previous actions. Sonny eyed Brock with a raised brow. Brock shook his head and reached down to unclip Cerberus from his belt.

"Bravo Five to all call signs, be advised that Cerberus has picked up a scent of something on the second floor."

"What is it?" asks Ray.

"Checking now." Brock waits for Sonny's signal, then breeches the room that caught Cerberus' attention. They entered the room, not sure what to expect, but were prepared for anything that came their way.

The dog ran to what looked to be the bathroom that was located in the back, barking at the closed door, sitting in front of the door.

Brock was the first to arrive, steadied his weapon in his right hand and opened the door with his left hand. He lets out a low breath when he sees the tub is holding an explosive device.

"Bravo Five to Bravo One. How's the situation looking down there?"

"One to Five, the hostiles are getting antsy. Why?"

"Look for a guy with a kill switch. Cerberus is acting weird, so I'm guessing the bomb in the tub on the second floor isn't the only one in the building."

Jason sighs. "Copy that, Five. Out."

Brock didn't see a timer on the device, no ticking numbers that indicated the bomb would go off soon, so he thought it best to leave the explosive to the German EOD and get back to searching for their missing American.

Back at Sonny's side, who had been guarding the door to the small room, Brock tapped Bravo Three's shoulder twice and they moved on to the next room. Once again, Cerberus started to act strange, this time stopping in front of a closet.

Brock followed the canine, motioning for Sonny to watch his back as he checked it out. He readied his weapon in his right hand and prepared to open the door with his left. Cerb was at his side, ready to strike if need be, and Sonny was watching his six.

When Brock opened the door, he was greeted with the sight of a terrified woman, hunched down in the corner, hands above her head in fear.

She screams.

"US Navy! Come out with your hands up!" Brock shouts at the woman. He could tell that she was scared, but they needed to make sure that she was the woman they were looking for.

Once the woman had crawled out of the closet, Brock looked at her face, then to the picture that was strapped to his arm. "Kasey Scott?"

The woman can barely manage a nod, but it was good enough for the men.

"We're here to take you home."

At that Kasey visibly relaxed, though not all the way.

"Bravo Five to all call signs. We have the package. Repeat, we have the package."

Jason keys his comms, "Copy that, Five. Move for exfil. The local military will handle this mess."

"Copy."

Brock motioned for Kasey to get between him and Sonny, then called for Cerberus to follow. But the dog was nowhere to be seen. Brock called again, looking around the room, soon spotting where Cerberus was sniffing in circles, in front of two doors at the end of the hall. Bravo Five followed Cerberus, who had sat down in front of another closed door after a few seconds. But before he could reach the room, the canine stood up, darted past him, sat down, ran back to his side and darted back to where Sonny was.

Brock didn't have time to question the dog's actions, didn't have time to heed his warnings. Soon the room in front of him exploded in a bright light and intense heat and the last thing he saw was Cerberus, Sonny and Kasey being thrown back into walls and furniture before the world went dark and dropped out from underneath him.

 **AN: I know it is short. But I hope to work on this little by little, even as I go back to school so consider this a bit of a hiatus, if you will. Please leave a review and follow so you know when I post the next chapter. Thank you for reading!**


	5. Blind Faith (Part 2)

**AN: Man... this last episode (2.13 "Time to Shine") messed with me real good. How am I suppose to wait six weeks for new episodes after that?**

 **Answer: write fanfiction.**

 **Also, as I was writing part two, I didn't like part one so I rewrote/updated it. I would suggest you reread that as I added various plot points that are important going forward.**

 **Here's part two. Enjoy!**

 **3: Blind Faith (Part 2)**

Sonny was thrown back into the wall by the explosion. He didn't see it, but he heard it, felt it. And he saw the aftermath. He saw Cerberus on the floor, not moving…

...didn't see the girl...

...and the area he last saw Brock?

Instead of seeing his brother, he saw a massive hole in the area Cerberus was telling them about. But before he could call out, before he could even think of searching for Brock, armed men ran into the room and opened fire on Bravo Three.

Sonny crawled behind an overturned couch and returned fire. He felt a burning on his arm, but it wasn't enough to slow him down. No, but the two in his vest sent him reeling back into the floor, where he went still.

The hostiles, not paying attention to the SEAL, grabbed Kasey, who was just coming to. She screamed and kicked and tried to get away. One of the men hit her over the head with the butt of his weapon, knocking her out cold. Another threw her over his shoulder, and they headed back from where they came.

Just as the hostiles were nearing the stairwell, Trent and Clay were arriving on the floor, having heard, felt and seen part of the explosion from below. Bravo Six saw the men first, but before he could pull the trigger, he saw a woman over one of their shoulders. He couldn't tell if it was the American or not.

"I don't have a clear shot!" he says to Trent over the sound of gunfire. They press themselves against the walls, avoiding the bullets that bounced off the ground, until Trent kicks in a door and pulls Clay inside a room.

Bravo Four peers out into the hall, looks around. "Me neither."

When the bullets stop, Bravos Four and Six move in unison towards where they last saw the men, but the building smoke in the hall was making it harder to see. By the time they were past the room that exploded and the smoke wasn't as thick, the hostiles were gone.

"Bravo Four to Bravo One. There was an explosion on the fourth floor. The hostiles have a hostage, cannot confirm if it is our package. Six and I—"

"Trent! Get in here!"

The panicked sound of his name cuts Bravo Four off. He shields his face as he walks into the smoky rooms, sees Clay standing over a still teammate.

"Three took a couple rounds to the vest, and one in his arm." Clay tells the medic. "I can't get him to wake up. And Cerberus is over there by the wall."

"Five?"

Clay shakes his head. "I cleared the room; he's not here."

Okay. One problem at a time.

Trent takes a knee beside Sonny and begins to check him over. He tends to the wound on his arm first, wrapping gauze around it and taping it down. After checking him over for any other injuries, and thankfully finding none, he presses a fist down hard on his chest and moves it in quick circles.

Sonny comes too with a groan, coughs and blinks a few times to clear his vision. He is happy to see Trent and Clay, but his mind is going to one place.

"Brock… he—" Sonny rolls onto his side, and with the help of Trent, is able to get to his feet. "He was right next to the blast. And Cerberus—"

Clay looks around, feels a pang in his chest at the sight of the prone canine on the ground. "Yeah, I've got him." he says.

Trent watches as Sonny stumbles over to the gaping hole in the room. Small flames lick the burnt walls and smoke continues to pour out into the rest of the building. Sonny rests his left hand against a bare portion of the wall, and peers down into the hole in the floor. It wasn't very big compared to the hole where the rooms once stood, but yeah, a man could fit through it.

Splintered wood lay scattered across the floor, parts of broken doors and walls. The smoke was thinner below them, and Quinn was able to see a puddle of blood and a handheld gun in the mist of the mess below.

But Brock was nowhere in sight.

"Did you see anything while you were on the third floor?"

Trent shakes his head at Sonny's question. "Nothing. No bombs, no hostiles. We were eight rooms away when we heard the explosion, but the cave-in was too much to get through, so we doubled back."

"Cerb tried to tell him but... damn thing went off before he could move." Sonny shakes his head.

"Hey, don't think like that. Focus." Trent placed a hand on Sonny's shoulder, trying to calm the SEAL down. "Where's the package?"

Sonny looked around the room, didn't see the woman, curses under his breath. "They came in hot. Probably grabbed her once I was down. Shit... I was right there when it went off." Sonny's voice is rough. Trent offers him a bottle of water, which he gladly accepts. "Ain't no way he walked away from that. Which means—"

Trent nods, already dreading the worst. "Clay, how's Cerberus?"

Clay is wrapping bandages around Cerberus' left hind leg. The dog is laying down, but once Six has finished, he is up and limping towards the door. "I'm no vet. He's got a pretty deep cut on his leg but seems to be okay."

As if on cue, Cerberus limped into the hall, but he didn't know which way to go. The three SEALs picked up on this, and Sonny keyed his comms to tell the others their situation.

"Bravo Three to Bravo One… we've got a problem."

* * *

Jason shifted from his kneeling position in the hall outside the kitchen. He, Ray and Kairos were currently monitoring the escalating situation, which only escalated more with each passing minute. Hotel guests were lined up against the wall, and hostiles were strewn about, some leaning against the counters and others posted at the door.

They were waiting for something, but the CIA and therefore HAVOC and therefore Bravo, didn't know what.

HAVOC told Jason that the Germany military was on their way to take over the situation, but it was unknown how long it would be before they got there. Bravo did not know how many explosive devices were in the resort. They knew they couldn't wait for the Germans to arrive.

Jason was working on a plan to take out the men and locate the main switch for the devices, when he hears Sonny's voice come through his ear piece.

He pauses.

"Say again your last, Bravo Three?" he says, not believing what he heard.

"I repeat, the hostiles have the package and Bravo Five is MIA, presumed taken." Sonny didn't know how to tell Jason that he was close to the bomb when it went off, so Trent stepped in.

"One this is Four; Bravo Three said that Bravo Five was near the blast that went off on the fourth floor. But there's no sign of him." Says Trent. "Cerberus is walking in circles. Don't think he can get a sent with all this smoke and the remaining explosives."

"Shit." Jason mutters. "Bravo One to HAVOC, do you still have eyes inside?"

"Affirmative, Bravo One. We have eyes on two hostiles taking the package down a flight of stairs after the blast, but we lose them on the first-floor landing. There are no cameras below that level. Appears to be a basement for storage according to the resort plans." Commander Blackburn tells Hayes. "However, be advised the German military will be arriving within the hour. You are to wait for them until then."

"That's a negative, HAVOC. Bravo Five is MIA and the hostiles have the package." Argues Jason. "We can't sit here and just-"

"That's coming from the brass, Bravo One." Blackburn grimly tells the team. "Not my call."

Hayes wasn't having it. He was not going to abandon his man, nor the American they were sent to rescue.

He just needed a plan.

Or something that resembled a plan.

"Bravo One to all call signs, I have an idea."

* * *

She came to in waves.

First to the feeling of bitter cold that lay atop her like a thick blanket.

Then she heard voices speaking but couldn't make out what was being said.

When Kasey finally opened her eye, she saw that she was laying on a cold floor, the sight of bottles of what she guessed was wine surrounded her. The bottles of alcohol lined the wall from the ceiling to the floor. She appeared to be a walk-in refrigerator of some kind. An imposing door towered over her from the other end of the room.

Somehow she managed to get to her feet, started to walk over to the door, albeit unsteady. She was dizzy and there was something dry caked to the side of her head and down her neck. She didn't know what it was. She hadn't gotten but two shaky steps when the steel door opened and a gruff looking man with a rather long gun stepped in the doorway.

She stopped.

Frozen in more ways than one.

Soon after two more goons appeared and tossed something in the room with her.

It landed with a thud less than ten feet away.

The door slammed shut behind them with a lock clicking in place.

Kasey stared at the sight before her.

The sight of a man laying there, bound at the wrists and ankles, bloodied, clothes torn, not moving… breathing?

And to make things worse?

...if this could somehow get worse?

Kasey was sure this was the same soldier who came to take her home.

 **AN: School is going well so far and I had a bit of free time to write part two. "Blind Faith" is getting kind of long, so there will be part three. And I think it's high time to bring the whump back, so, yeah. No one it safe...**

 **Review and follow for more! Thank you!**


	6. Blind Faith (Part 3)

**AN: Hello all! How are you surviving this hiatus? Recovered from "Time to Shine" yet? *shakes head***

 **Thank you all for reading and reviewing/favoriting/following. I haven't done it in years (literally), but once I have time and remember how to thank each one of you in a DM, I will.**

 **Enjoy! :)**

 **3: Blind Faith (Part 3)**

Kasey took a deep breath. Or, at least she tried to. Her leg hurt for some reason, along with her head, but she didn't think about that. How could she? There was a bound soldier on the ground in front of her… her problems could wait for now.

Taking a hesitant step forward, Kasey knelt down and placed two fingers to the soldier's neck. He had a pulse, which was good. His breathing didn't sound right, but she didn't know what to do about that.

She took off her sweatshirt and used it to wipe blood off the man's head, looking for the source of it all. She couldn't remember if he was wearing a helmet before, but if he had that would be a reason why the wound she soon found on the side of his head wasn't any larger. After wiping some of the blood away, Kasey started to worry. The soldier didn't move when she dragged the fabric across his face, so she shook his shoulder to try to wake him up.

Nothing.

Kasey moved to untie the rope from the soldier's wrists when the door opened suddenly and the man with the large gun stepped into the room. Before she could brace herself for whatever came, the man roughly kicked her in her right side.

She screamed and tried to back away, but another kick caught her in the same spot.

"No touch." The man tells her in broken English. He is gone as quickly as he came, leaving Kasey curled in on herself on the cold floor.

* * *

The plan was straight forward.

Jason, Ray and Sonny would set up positions to take out the armed men in the kitchen once Kairos located the fuse box and cuts the lights. Trent and Clay would head for the basement where, hopefully, Brock and the American are being held. Blackburn "conveniently" stepped out of HAVOC base to take a call, leaving Davis to coordinate unofficially.

Bravo Team knew the risks of disobeying a direct order but locating Brock and the American was their top priority. However, the severity of the situation regarding the hostiles in the kitchen was growing, and they couldn't wait for the German military to arrive to take care of it.

The bomb that already detonated was proof of that.

"Bravo One to Bravo Seven. Have you located the fuse box?"

"Bravo Seven to Bravo One, affirmative. Ready when you are."

"Copy. Hold for my signal." Says Jason. Ray was in front of him with his weapon raised and ready while Sonny had gone over to the second door twenty feet away. "One to Four, are you and Six in position?"

After following Davis' directions to the stairwell she lost the hostiles and the American in, Trent, with Cerberus attached to his belt and Clay began their search for Brock. Four flights of stairs later, they were in a short hall that lead to what looked like a wine cellar.

Clay took a knee and watched Trent's back as he peered into the room. It was dimly lit and other than being able to make out a few wooden crates stacked two or three high, he couldn't see much. But he could hear voices talking. The comms were spotty, but Trent says, "Four to One, good copy."

Jason readies his own weapon, and keys his comms. "All call signs ready to move in three…two…one…execute!"

Jason, Ray and Sonny burst into the kitchen, taking out five armed men at the same time, before any hostile had a chance to react to the lights going out. Once the hostiles were down, Bravos One, Two and Three checked each man for a kill switch but all came up empty.

The guests were rounded up, waited for the German military to arrive. Jason told Sonny to secure the area until that happened, and for Kairos to head for the kitchen while Hayes and Ray went to give Trent and Clay backup.

* * *

When the lights went off in the basement, Trent entered the room with Clay on his heels, each man sweeping their respective sides as they worked their way deeper into the room.

One hostile appeared with a weapon raised, and both Four and Six took him out in quick, practiced motions. They passed the man, rounded a corner, when sparks suddenly bounced off the floor and splintered the wooden crates around them. Taking cover, Clay returned fire while Trent went around to the opposite side to get a better shot at the gunmen. Cerberus began to growl and bark furiously, which raised Trent's attention in the direction the dog was pointed.

Bravo Four saw the American woman being tossed into the back of a van. She was bound and gagged, laying on the floor. Upon seeing the two SEALs arrive, she tried to fight to get free from her captors, but strong arms prevented her from getting far.

"I've got visual on the package!" comes Clay's shout over gunfire but he didn't have an opening. "I'm pinned down here!" No sooner than the word left his mouth, Clay grunts and jerks back, which didn't go unnoticed by Trent. However, he was back on his feet soon enough.

"Cover me!" Trent changes his mag and readies himself to move closer. When the onslaught of bullets slowed down slightly, he made his move.

However, when Bravo Four peered back around the crates, he realized that the presence of the American wasn't what caught Cerberus' attention.

Brock was being dragged from a room to the waiting van by two men with weapons strapped to their backs. From his position and the fact that he was engaged in a firefight, Trent couldn't be sure if Brock was even alive. Regardless, the hostiles loaded Bravo Five into the van with the American and shut the door before the vehicle lurched forward into the night and out through an open bay door.

Cerberus barked and whined and tried to give chase, but his efforts were fruitless. And as the van got further and further away, he simply laid down behind the cover of crates.

"Bravo Four to HAVOC base. I have visual verification that Bravo Five and the package are being held hostage!" Trent yells into his comms. The bullets have yet to slow down; he was beginning to wonder if their supply was endless. "They were taken in a dark van that left from the loading docks. Can you get ISR on them?"

"Stand by, Bravo Four." Comes Davis' reply as she works to locate the van.

Clay hunches low as the hostiles continue to bare down on his and Trent's position behind the crates that now offered very little protection.

Trent shouts over his shoulder, says "Prep a frag!" But before he and Clay would do just that, Jason and Ray come into the room with weapons hot and engaged with the hostiles that had them pinned down. Both Clay and Trent took this chance to flank the men and soon the problem was eliminated as the last hostile went down in a heap of gunfire.

When the room filled with silence, Jason turned to Clay and Trent, asked for a sitrep. Trent told him what they saw, and that Davis was looking for the van on ISR. After giving Jason the information, the medic turned to Six with careful eyes.

Clay didn't need to be told. "Bullet just grazed my leg, caught some splinters too. I'm—"

"Don't say fine. I'll be the judge of that." Trent pulls the gear needed from his bag and set to work on cleaning away a few splinters out of Clay's right thigh. The wound wasn't deep, but it still bleed pretty good.

"Bravo One to Bravo Three, how's the situation up top?"

"Three to One, the German military finally arrived. The hotel guests are outside, and the bomb techs are sweeping for additional devices." Says Sonny. "They located a kill switch, so, yea." he pauses, finally asks, "You find Brock?"

Jason would rather tell his men what they saw in person, so he keys his comm and says "Let the Germans have the fun upstairs. You and Seven head for the basement."

"Copy that, Boss."

With Trent tending to Clay's wound, Jason and Ray fanned out about the room, checking it and the dead men for any additional devices that could detonate. After a few minutes of coming up empty, Clay and Trent joined in the search in sweeping the rest of the room right when Davis came though comms.

"HAVOC to Bravo One. I need a sitrep, over." Blackburn. Jason could tell that he likely just got back to base after getting an earful from brass about Bravo disrespecting the chain of command.

Hayes informed him that Brock and the American were taken hostage and Davis was looking for the van. "The Germans have a handle on the situation here; we need to get out there and locate Five before—" Jason stops himself. He didn't want to think what the hostile would do with his soldier. "Anything yet, HAVOC?"

"ISR picked them up leaving the resort and making for the mountains due northeast of your current location." Davis tells Hayes. "The roads up there won't take them far, the terrain is rough. If they keep in that direction, they'll have to ditch the van, foot it to wherever they're taking the hostages."

"What's up there?"

"Looking now."

Jason purses his lips, looks out the open bay door where the hostiles made off with his man and the American as he waits for HAVOC to get him the information.

When they arrived in Germany, it was cold. When they arrived at the resort, it was still cold. In the unknown amount of time that had passed since then, it got colder, and a thick blanket of snow now covered the ground. Dozens of scenarios played through his mind, and none of them ended well for his man, or the American.

It felt like hours went by before Blackburn's voice rings though Jason's comms. "HAVOC to Bravo One. ISR shows what appears to be a compound in the mountains eight klicks due northeast of the resort. It could be their home base, which is why we don't have plans for the building."

Jason nods absentmindedly, knowing this means HAVOC can't give them a layout of the building. "How far out is QRF?"

"From your current location, 80 mikes." Eric pauses, catching on to what Jason was getting at. "However, if Bravo were to detour eight klicks due northeast, QRF would arrive in 65 mikes."

"Hey, Boss!" Ray calls out. "You need to see this."

"Good copy, HAVOC. Stand by." Jason walks over to his men, eager to see what they found. Upon arriving at the walk-in wine cellar, Hayes first noticed that Cerberus was sniffing and pawing at an area on the floor. There was a balled-up jacket, and two different spots of blood on the floor. One was larger than the other.

"Cerberus got Brock's scent right there." Trent points to the area next to the larger pool of blood. "And if the package was locked in here with him, then the other blood is hers. This jacket, too."

Jason turns to Bravo's official/unofficial medic and asked the question that was on everyone's mind. "How bad does it look, Trent?"

Bravo Four kneels down, inspects the wine cellar. The room was chilled, not as cold as it was outside, but cold enough to do harm to any person locked inside for an extended period of time. "Hard to say. Sonny told us Brock was right next to the blast when it detonated. That, plus he fell through the floor and was dragged from the fourth floor to a chilled wine cellar in the basement. And there is no way of knowing what they did to him while he was MIA—"

Jason curses. He then fills Bravo in on the information that he got from HAVOC about the compound. "All right, suggestions?"

* * *

It was the constant motion of moving that drew him from unconsciousness. But it was that same motion that pulled him back to darkness. Everything hurt. He wanted to move, but something told him that wasn't the best idea right now.

Voices speaking in the cab of the van were in the middle of a very heated conversation. And considering how cold the back of the van was, that was the only source of heat to be found.

Brock tried to move his arms, but they were secured behind his back. He tried to shift his legs ever so slightly, but they too were tied together. He could tell that other parts of his body were aching, but the cold was dulling that pain to where he was able to ignore it for now.

Not able to do much else, he slowly opened his eyes. Doing so wasn't the best choice he made, with his vision blurry and eyes dry, but he kept them open and tried to look around best he could.

Without moving his head, Bravo Five noticed containers of chemicals, trash bags, tape and other odds and ends in small barrels that made his skin crawl. From his position on his left side, he then saw the American, bound in a similar way as he was.

And she was staring at him with eyes so wide he could see how panicked she was, even in the dark van.

But before he could try to calm her—how, being bound and gagged himself, he didn't know—when the van slowed to a halt. A few seconds later the back doors opened, and three men appeared.

Two were larger, holding rifles aimed into the van at Brock and Kasey while the other one had a long hunting knife and a pistol tucked into his pants.

The smaller man reaches into the van and cuts the tape around Bravo Five ankles, before one of the large men grabs him roughly, pulls him from the van and out into the cold, German air.

"Come here." The small man says to Kasey. His English is broken, but clear enough to understand. "We have an appointment to keep."

 **AN: I thought this was going to be the final part of "Blind Faith", but it was getting too long to keep together. Soooo... I separated this and included the *REDACTED* and *REDACTED* in part four because I really wanted to focus on *REDACTED* and the *REDACTED*. I have a lot of homework (like write a short story that isn't FF) and my job that will take up my time this weekend, but part four is nearly finished, so that may come sooner rather than later.**

 **Thanks so much for reading. Please review, let me know what you thought and be sure you are following so you know when I post part four.**

 **PS: and for those asking for Clay whump... I know I shot him here, but more is coming (not in this story, but in a one-shot I'm working on). *evil laugh* :)**


	7. Blind Faith (Part 4)

**AN: Slowly working my way through this hiatus...**

 **Thanks for the commets/favs/follows so far! Here is the final part for "Blind Faith". Hope you enjoy!**

 **3: Blind Faith (Part 4)**

It took all of Brock's energy to stay awake. His body was protesting all it had been put through, pains he was able to ignore before now coming back to the forefront. His head was swimming and he was sure that his vision was getting worse. The pounding in his head definitely was. He leaned on his training, but as time dragged by, even that was getting harder and harder to do.

From what he gathered, he was being held in some kind of basement on what was likely the hostiles home base. They didn't bother blindfolding his eyes as he were forced to walk through the frozen, German terrain, didn't stop him from looking at their faces or hearing their names.

Brock knew this was a bad sign.

When they arrived at the building, the two goons took him to the basement and Kasey vanished from his sight.

That was also a bad sign.

He was tied to a chair, arms secured behind the metal with rope. He was stripped of his gear, shirt and shoes, leaving him in his pants in the cold room.

He had to find Kasey?...She wasn't in the room, so she was being held somewhere else. He just had to get out of this chair first, find her, and try to reach his team.

"I can tell that you are thinking of escape, Mr. Soldier." Says the small man from before. Had he been there this whole time? "But I must advise against that."

Brock didn't reply, kept his expressions neutral.

"The girl will fetch a pretty price, don't worry about her. Ah, Americans, so expensive. Well worth my troubles." He chuckles, walks over to another table Reynolds couldn't see. "But you, my friend, I have other plans for."

Bravo Five let out a shaky breath. Turned and faced the front of the room. And prayed that his brothers would come soon.

* * *

After commandeering a vehicle from the resort, Bravo Team followed Davis' directions towards the compound. When they got as far as they could with the vehicle, Bravo got out and searched first for the van. It wasn't easy with the amount of snow that continued to fall around them, but Cerberus was able to catch a scent of either Brock or Kasey and led the team to the hidden van.

The subsequent walk through the German mountainside was anything but easy, but by following the dog's direction, who constantly pulled at Trent's belt to go faster, they arrived at the compound in just over an hours' time.

"It ain't as big as I thought it'd be." Sonny says as he takes up a watch position.

"Big enough. We don't know where they're keeping them." Clay counters. "And there's a lot of arms hostiles at all the entrances I see."

"Bravo One to HAVOC base. Do you see an entrance will less resistance?"

"HAVOC to One, that's a negative. All entrances have at least two armed fighters." Comes Blackburn's reply. "But be advise that the Germans have been after this group for years. I was just notified Bravo has 15 mikes before their airstrike takes that compound out for good."

Six strings of expletives followed soon after hearing that information.

"How're we suppose to clear that building in fifteen minutes?"

Jason looks at his men, all who are eager to get inside and find their brother. "Quick and dirty. Send the hair missile, he'll lead us right to 'em."

"Rogers that."

Ray and Clay line up their shots, ready to take out the men at the front door on Jason's word. Once that order was given and the hostiles hit the ground, Trent and Cerberus run for the door, Bravo Four's weapon raised as he and the dog take point.

Bravo Team quickly cleared the entrance and each room they passed, took out each hostile who tried to slow them down. Cerberus took a hard left, his barks get louder and sharper. He soon stops in front of a wooden door, paws at it to signal the SEALs that there was something important behind it.

Trent looks over his shoulder. "Sonny!"

Quinn appears seconds later with a shotgun, the locks blasts away, and soon the men are in the room, clearing it and looking for Brock.

Instead they find Kasey Scott, curled in on herself. She screams at the sight of the men, but once they identify themselves, she calms slightly.

"Trent! She's in bad shape!" says Ray as he gives her a once over. She was freezing, her lips a tint of blue, and Perry was certain that she had internal injuries by the way she was folding herself together.

"We can't check her here! Take Kairos and Sonny, get to exfil. We'll look for Brock!" Jason tells his Second.

"Copy!"

The men go their separate ways as Jason, Trent and Clay continue their search for Bravo Five with Cerberus leading the way towards his human.

After clearing the rest of the floor, Cerberus takes the men down to what appears to be a basement. He stops just short of a steel door, laying down with a low whine.

Clay steps forward and places a charge on the door while Trent and Jason get ready. Bravo Four unclips Cerberus from his belt, holds him back until the door blasts open.

Trent lets go of Cerberus' harness.

The hair missile dives through the smoke, the scent of his human strong. He grabs hold of the small man's arm, the one that was approaching his human, and clamps down tight with his powerful jaws.

The man screams out of surprise and pain, tries to stab the dog to get free. Before he could bring the blade down, Clay shoots his hand and it clatters away out of reach.

Trent calls Cerberus off, and once the dog is out of the line of fire, Bravos One, Four and Six take out the last remaining hostile with a hail of bullets.

"HAVOC base to all call signs. You have less than five mikes til the airstrike lands." Commander Blackburn says. "Have you located Bravo Five and the package?"

"Bravo One to HAVOC base, I read good copy. Bravos Two, Three and Seven are with the package and heading for exfil. Stand by for further information." Jason says. He can't see through the smoke, waves his hand to try to clear some of it back. _C'mon… c'mon…_

After taking a couple steps forward, he sees Cerberus nudging Brock's hand with his head. Jason looks at Trent who is using cutters to remove the blood stained cuffs from Brock's wrists and ankles. Six, after making sure the target was dead, assisted Bravo Four in getting Bravo Five ready to move.

"He-y bubba… hey." Brock mutters as he feels Cerberus licking his hand. He desperately wants to reach out and let the canine know that he's right there, but his limbs don't seem to be working right now. Bravo Five lifts his head as far as he can manage, which isn't very far, so he can look at his brothers as he says, "T-took ya long 'nough." Cough, cough.

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that. German traffic is awful." Clay says trying to lighten the tense mood.

"It's damn good to see you, Brock." Jason wants to fall over with relief as the words leave his mouth but doesn't. Not yet. "Trent?"

Four shakes his head after taking a couple seconds to give Five a once over. "We gotta go." Which is another way of saying _shit was bad_.

"Spenser, get Cerb, take point. Trent, you got Brock?" he knows the answer even before he sees Trent who is already hoisting his brother over his shoulders while also trying to be wary of his injuries. He mutters apologies over and over, unsure if Brock can even hear his words. "Bravo One to HAVOC base, we've got Bravo Five and are heading for exfil. I say again, we're moving out."

"Haul tail, Bravo One. Less than two mikes til impact."

 _Not helping, Eric._ Jason watches his brothers six as Clay and Cerberus lead them out of the doomed building. Soon they are out in the open, heading for exfil that was waiting for them in a nearby clearing, when the building explodes and lights up the night German sky.

Ray and Sonny are reaching for Brock, taking him from Trent once they arrived at the chopper. Everyone else files in. As soon as Jason gave the 'okay' signal, the chopper lifts off and heads for the base.

"Talk to me Trent! How's he doing?" Jason asks as he watches the team medic work. "Trent!"

The only reply he gets is, "shitshitshitshit" over and over as Bravo Four takes a closer look at Five's injuries.

"…deep cuts, electrical burns on his chest and arms. Head trauma… fractured ribs… looks like he's been waterboarded, his breathing is ragged and wet. I'm worried about hypothermia." Rambles the medic. "Help me get his clothes off. Shit… internal injuries, his abdomen is hard."

"What's that mean?!"

Trent doesn't know who asks that question, can't bring himself to look at his brothers as he answers. "It means if he doesn't get into surgery within the next ten minutes, he won't make it."

* * *

The hours ticked by. The day changed from one to the next. Morning came, and with it slightly warmer temperatures.

But they were still cold.

Bravo Team was strewn about the waiting room of the medical building as morning gave way to afternoon, all cleaned up and debriefed of the mission. Clay had his bullet wound cleaned, stitched and bandaged, which left him with a limp. But he didn't complain. How could he when Brock was fighting for his life?

Commander Blackburn had only asked them to wash up and debrief, knowing the men were worn out after everything they had been though and would refuse to go anywhere but the waiting room. It was Davis who made sure they had extra jackets, made all of them eat half a sandwich, and drink a bottle of Gatorade and water, each.

That is, all except Trent.

The medic wasn't in on the surgery, but he didn't come out to the waiting room either. He wasn't going to leave Brock, not when he needed him the most. Reluctantly, the doctors allowed the SEAL to remain in the viewing room while they worked on the numerous wounds inflicted on Bravo Five.

This was over twelve hours ago.

When Trent finally walked through the double doors that separated the rest of Bravo Team from Four and Five, he was a sight to behold, for many reasons.

Dried blood ran down his clothes, having refused to change the many times nurses offered. He was pushing an IV pole, as he had the drip attached to his right arm. He looked worn out, but then again, so did everyone else. He just looked worse.

Jason is the first one to reach his side, followed closely by the rest of Bravo. "The hell, Trent!"

"I'm fine." The medic says flatly at Jason's outburst. Someone ushers him to a nearby chair, which he gladly takes. Knowing that his brothers want an update on Brock, he adds, "He's alive. Lost him three times on the table... but he's alive. They, uh, had to put him in a coma so the swelling could go down in his brain. Should be settling in the ICU soon."

"Swelling?"

Trent nods, then tells them just how bad Five's injuries were.

The explosion caused a tear in his spleen, it bled freely into his abdomen for hours, which is why his stomach was hard during exfil. The one-story fall, coupled with the force of the blast, caused him to fracture his right leg. The constant jolting and walking on it caused the break to widen. Brock was waterboarded, had water in his lungs that worried the doctors as they tried to get him intubated. He also had deep cuts and electrical burns on his chest and arms, and the doctors were fighting to keep hypothermia at bay.

And while all of that was bad, they were really worried about his head wound.

"The blast was pretty strong, from what Spenser and I saw from the third floor, so it easily could have knocked his helmet off. He probably hit his head when he fell though the floor, and god knows how many other times while those bastards had him." Trent leans forward, pauses when he sees the dried blood on his hand. "The next 48 hours will tell us more. Now it's just up to him."

Jason sighs, trying to take in this new information. Five was being cared for, so he now turns his worries to Four. "Why the IV?" his tone left no room for Trent to lie or brush the reason under the rug. To be honest, Trent didn't have the energy to lie.

"I passed out in the viewing room. Dehydrated." That's all he says.

Hayes clasps his hands behind his neck, turns to Bravo. "Okay, guys, we've been going on little to no sleep the last few days. Everyone go to the barracks, sleep. We'll take shifts by Brock's side."

"I'll go first." Sonny steps forward, looks Jason in his eyes. "Cerberus warned us. I should'a pulled him outta there. I should'a—"

"Sure." Jason places a hand on Bravo Three's shoulder. "Just… don't beat yourself up over this."

As if on cue, a nurse appears in the doorway, ready to usher the member of Bravo who was going to wait with Five. With a nod to the rest of the team, Sonny follows the nurse to Brock's room, mentally preparing himself for the sight of his brother.

* * *

They wanted to take six-hour shifts, but Blackburn forced Bravo down to three and ordered them to eat and sleep—not just rest—in between watching over Brock.

Sonny was on his third shift—hour 38—when Cerberus was finally allowed into Brock's room. The doctors were against it at first; they didn't want the dog to mess with all of the machines that Reynolds was hooked up to, but after being convinced the hair missile would do more healing than harm for Bravo Five, they allowed him to stay.

And stay he did. After sniffing Brock's prone hand, Cerberus lay down at the side of the bed, next to the chair that members of Bravo occupied during their watch.

It was during hour 47—Jason's third shift—when Cerberus perked up, turning his head towards the bed. Hayes noticed this, looked from the dog to his brother and was quickly on his feet.

Brock's narrow eyes were searching the room, filling with panic. Jason is by his side in a second flat, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. "Easy, Brock, take it easy. Calm down."

But the heart monitor continued to speed up.

Cerberus, realizing that his human needed him, placed his front paws on the bed and nudged Brock's arm with his snout. Jason gently moved Five's hand, so it was laying atop Cerb's head, and as soon as the connection was made, Brock began to calm down.

"We're all here for you, man. Just try'n relax."

Seconds pass before Brock tries to talk, but he soon realizes that something is preventing him from doing so, recognizes the cause. He takes his gaze off Cerberus and turns to his team leader. His eyes ask, 'how bad?', knowing that Hayes won't lie to him, not about this.

Jason feels a pang of pain in his chest, looking at his brother in the hospital bed. "It's… bad. But you'll get through it. Okay? We're here for you."

Brock goes to nod, quickly changes his mind. Instead, he makes a small motion with the hand that isn't still on Cerb's head. Jason sees this and grabs a whiteboard and marker from a nearby table. Unfortunately, Trent suggested it. Members of Bravo had been in the hospital plenty of times—had been intubated more than enough—to know that when you first wake up, you want to say a lot, but the tube down your throat prevents you from doing so.

Jason held the board as Brock wrote one word—'girl'.

Jason can't help but smile. Even laid up, tube down his throat and facing a long road to recovery, his man is still thinking about the American they were sent to rescue.

"With time, she'll heal. Thanks to you." Jason hadn't talked to Kasey Scott, but from what Blackburn said after Mandy talked to her when she first woke up, she's only alive because of Brock. "I'll go get the doc, let the others know. Leave you two alone for a bit."

Cerberus slides as close as he can to Brock, who is slowly falling back into unconsciousness.

 **AN: Okay, so here's the deal. I started to write the torture scenes, but I felt I was pushing a M rating with how descriptive I was being. So, I removed Brock's (and Kasey's) whump/torture from this collection, started to rewrite it, and will post it on its own, should you all want to read it.**

 **Next up I have an episode tag that is really the main reason why I got back into writing FF, then I have a one-shot that is basically a whumpfest for half of Bravo. Any guesses as to which three?**

 **Review and let me know what you thought and be sure to follow for more!**

 **Until next time. :)**


	8. Hold On

**AN: Hello all! Happy SEAL Team Day!**

 **Sorry this took so long, but I'm finally back with my team whump fic (though some get it worse than others), that I've been working on for weeks.**

 **SPOILERS-ish: This is my first time writing Clay whump, so I hope you all like it.**

 **Please enjoy and don't forget our boys are back at 10/9c!**

 **Disclaimer: medical inaccuracies abound.**

 **Plot: Bravo Team is sent to the Philippines to take out a target, but three members will soon find themselves in dire situations.**

 **4: Hold On (One-Shot)**

Mandy Ellis and the CIA had been chasing their latest target for the last seven months, ever since a CIA agent was killed gathering intel that proved a terror attack was being planned for the United Stated/Canada border. While the information was pivotal in preventing the attack, the agency wanted this individual taken out by any means necessary.

And since Mandy works with the best of the best, Bravo Team was quickly briefed and sent to the northern coast of the Philippines.

"Bravo One to HAVOC base. How copy?"

"HAVOC base to Bravo One, we read good copy." Commander Blackburn says into the comms.

"Bravo's Three, Five and Six are in position. Do you have any movement on ISR?"

"Negative, Bravo One. Your target has not left the building due north of your current position." Blackburn watches the screen Lisa Davis has in front of her, both of them intently watching and looking for any trouble that may cause problems for Bravo on the ground. "You are clear to move towards the target building."

"Good copy, HAVOC. Bravo One out."

From the intel Mandy compiled, their target was a slippery individual. Hayes decided the best way to prevent them from getting past Bravo and back in the wind, he, Ray and Trent would enter through the front, while Sonny, Brock and Clay came in from the back. With the cover of night and the element of surprise, they would be able to eliminate the target and make for exfil before the target knew what happened.

"All stations get ready to move in, three, two, one…execute!"

Jason is first through the curtain that acts as a door, pausing right and letting Trent and Ray file in behind him. When he feels two taps on his shoulder, he moves, clearing each room he enters, looking for the target.

At the same time, Sonny, Brock and Clay entered the back, when the youngest member of Bravo caught a glimpse of movement in the dark room ahead of them. He motions to Brock, who was in front of him, to go left, while he went right leaving Sonny to give cover from behind.

Their steps sure and silent, Bravos Five and Six entered the back room. Brock was the first to see their target digging through a nearby bin, but before he could pull his trigger, the target jumped up, the glint of something shiny catching in the moonlight of an open window as they rushed Spenser.

The target tackles Bravo Six around the waist with arms raised, slams him into the wall opposite of Brock. The force of the hit knocks Clay's weapon from his hands, leaving Spenser to uses his forearms in an effort to keep the target away.

After a few seconds, Clay and the target hit the ground, with Bravo Six still fighting to get the person off of him so Reynolds could get a clear shot.

"Six! Left!" shouts Brock over the sound of items crashing to the floor.

Trusting his brother, Spenser leans left as much as he can, and two quick shots ring out in the room. The target slumps to the side, lands on the wood floor with a thud as their breathing got slower and slower, two fresh holes in their chest.

"Spenser, you good? Spenser? Clay?!"

Sonny steps by his brothers and checks the target, making sure they were dead. In the dimly lit room, Quinn first noticed the targets left hand was covered in blood, realizes that neither he nor Reynolds took a shot that low.

The three things that happened next occurred as if in slow motion.

First, Bravo Three's eyes move back to the other two SEALs in the room, where he first sees a shocked look on Clay's face, the way he is struggling to catch his breath, the way his hands tremble towards his stomach. Secondly, he reads Brock's body language, how he is franticly pressing his hands against the younger SEALs abdomen, shouting at Six. And finally, he turns back towards the target, who is now smiling. Blood pooled out of their mouth, ran past their lips and down their cheek. Something flickered, blinked, in their right hand, and before Sonny could stop them, they pressed the button.

Jason, Ray and Trent were making their way towards the sound of gunfire, towards the sound of their brothers, when the ground shook and rumbled without warning.

Hayes grabs onto a nearby wall, keys his comms, "Bravo One to HAVOC base. What was that?"

Ray tries to keep his balance. "Earthquake?" he inquires.

Trent is already shaking his head, not liking the way the ground was moving beneath them. "Nah, that wasn't—"

Commander Blackburn had just keyed his comms to let Bravo know that it was not an earthquake when Sonny's frantic cry from the back of the building alerted the three men at the front of the home.

"Everybody out!"

Not having time to question Bravo Three's warning, Ray and Trent double time it out of the building just as stone and wood began to fall around them. Jason instinctively headed for the rest of Bravo in the back, but Ray, knowing his team leader, grabbed his arm and hauled him back outside just as the ceiling began to caved in.

Sonny struggled to keep his balance as he worked to get to Brock, who is trying to drag Clay to the back door. Debris rained down around them, dishes shattered and landed with a crash. The ground shifted, vanishing completely in some places.

"Get out of here! I've got 'em!" shouts Sonny as he goes to pick Bravo Six up so they could get to safety.

"Don't! Just grab his legs!"

Quinn didn't question him, simply does as Reynolds says and continues to haul tail backwards towards the doorway.

The three SEALs managed to get out of the first room, were not thirty feet away from open air, when the ground shifted from underneath Sonny without warning.

Brock blinks; one second Sonny was in front of him, holding onto Clay's legs as they worked to get their brother—and themselves—out. But the next second the Texan was nowhere to be see.

"Sonny!" shouts Reynolds as the weight of the man in his arms seemingly doubles. A piece of ceiling lands on Five's shoulder, the force of it sends him and Clay to the ground. With the building crumbling around them, and the ground shifting more and more, Brock leans over Clay, offering as much protection as he could as the building came crashing down around and on top of the SEALs.

* * *

The amount of dirt and debris that was stirred up made it difficult to breathe. The force of the building crashing down was enough to send the three men flying through the air, and landing on the rumbling ground with thuds. They covered themselves as best they could, but it felt like hours had passed before the raining debris stopped and the night stilled.

Jason was the first to lift his head. And the sight before him was enough to take his already lacking breath away.

Through the cloudy, dusty darkness, Jason saw the target building was now but a pile of rubble. Beams that once supported the ceiling were but splintered shards, and piles of rock were all over the place. Jason pushed himself up to his knees, coughs, gets to his feet, looks around for Ray and Trent.

Ray is on one knee, being looked over by Trent. After a few seconds, the medic stands and walks over to Jason, but Hayes is quick to push him off.

"Bravo One to Bravo Three, come in." Nothing. "Bravo Five, do you read?" Still nothing. "Bravo Six, do you copy?" Silence.

"HAVOC base to Bravo One, come in!" that's Eric, screaming through their comms. Jason rubs his ear, trying to get the ringing to stop. "Any call sign, come in!"

Ray, seeing that Jason needs Trent, replies, "HAVOC, this is Bravo two. I read you."

"Ray! Oh, thank God!" sighs Blackburn. The dust in the area was making it hard to see on ISR, so he was very glad to hear Perry's voice. "I need a sitrep."

"Uh, target building was destroyed." Ray looks at Trent, who is still tending to Jason. "One and Four are accounted for. We can't raise Three, Five or Six on comms." He pauses, takes a deep breath. "Do you know what happened? Was it an earthquake?"

"It was not an earthquake, Bravo Two. It appears that our target buried explosives _beneath_ the building, set them off not long after you breeched." That's Davis, who is succeeding in keeping her cool, in spite of having heard half of Bravo is MIA. "The blast likely imploded the foundation, causing the building itself to collapse on itself and off the cliff."

"Can you see anything on ISR?"

"Stand by, Two."

"Standing by." Ray rolls his neck, trying to loosen his tightening muscles. He carefully watches Trent work with Jason, wondering why it was taking so long. If Trent was being this careful, it had to be serious. He can't help but think of Jason's last head injury…

"HAVOC base to Bravo Two."

"Go for Bravo Two."

"We picked something on ISR, northeast side." Says Blackburn.

Ray is sure his heart stopped because that was the side Sonny, Brock and Clay breeched the building… and the side with rocky cliffs that dropped off into—oh god. Perry runs off in that direction, sending up a prayer as he did.

"Ray!"

He thinks that's Jason, but he doesn't slow. He stumbles over wood and rocks, even as he took a long way around what was left of the building, slowed to a halt as the cliffs appeared.

Ray got down on his belly and crawled as close as he could to the edge. He felt someone grab his legs, steadying him as he peered over. He brings his NVGs down over his eyes, sees the crashing waves hitting the rocks… there! On a small outcropping Perry can make out a prone figure, about a third of a way from the top of the cliff. Ray adjusts his sight, looks for identifiers…

"Bravo Two to HAVOC base. Bravo Three is currently on a ledge about a third of the way down the cliff." Rays says. "I repeat, I have located Sonny!"

"The hell!" Trent appears on his left, peering over the edge, copying Ray's previous actions. "Sonny? Sonny?!"

* * *

Sonny just wanted to sleep. It was still dark, which usually meant that it was time to sleep. However, in his line of work, that often isn't the case.

 _"Sonny? Sonny?!"_

"Five more min'tes…" muttering words to whichever team member was trying to draw him from his slumber. Don't they know by now Texans need their beauty sleep? If its Spenser, he was gonna have some words…

 _"C'mon, Quinn, answer me!"_

"Go 'way." He goes to turn over, can't. Why not?

 _"Bravo Three if you don't answer me right this second, I am going to have you run hills until you puke and then you're going to run them again!"_

"Jase?" he moves his hands, tries to find some light as he works on gathering his bearings. Comes up empty. His left hand finds a button, and he presses it out of instinct. "Jase? What happened? Am I dead? Did I get stuck with y'all in the afterlife?"

"Yeah, yeah, Sonny, I'm here. And no, you aren't dead." Jason sounds relieved and that really confuses Sonny. "Trent has some questions to ask you, okay. Just stay awake and answer them."

Sonny huffs, not wanting to answer any questions the team medic may throw his way. He presses the mystery button again, "Is this, like, a pop quiz? 'Cuz I've… not studied for any quizzes. Of any kind."

"Not a pop quiz, Sonny, don't worry." That's Trent now. "Can you tell me the last thing you remember?"

That's a strange question. But knowing Trent has his methods, Sonny thinks back as far as he can. "Uh, I went with Five and Six in the back of the target building… there was a scuffle… something happened, the ground moved and, and we tried to get out…" Sonny stops, wondering why the sound of water was so freaking close to his head. "Something happened to the kid!"

"Okay, okay, Sonny, slow down." Trent tries to calm Three down, but he feels so helpless when his brother is so far away. "Just… I need you to tell me what else happened. Okay?"

Pushing the growing sound of water aside, Sonny swallows the lump in his throat. "Uh, Brock was trying to drag Clay out, I jumped in… then the ground disappeared and—." _Shit_.

"After that?"

Sonny thinks for a few seconds. "That's the last thing I remember." The comms are silent for a few seconds and Sonny was wondering what happened. "Trent?"

"Sonny, its Jason."

"Jase! What the hell happened? You know what, forget that. You gotta find the kid, okay? Brock saw what happened, he can tell you what's wr—"

"Bravo Three, I need you to listen to me very carefully, all right?" that was Jason's "Master Chief" voice. Sonny stopped his babbling, waited for his team leader to continue. "There was an explosion beneath the target building. It looks like the ground swept you over the cliff—"

"What—"

"… are on an outcropping that is only about as wide as you are tall."

Sonny dare not move now, not that he really wanted to. His leg was giving him the blues all of the sudden. "Again… you sure I ain't dead?"

"We're sure, Sonny. Let's keep it that way, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, that sounds good. Solid plan." Sonny tries to relax, even out his breathing. Sure, he wasn't a sniper, but he's picked up a few tricks from his brothers. All of the sudden, realization hits Quinn like a truck. Or being swept over a cliff with rocks and dirt, you know, if he were conscious for that. "Hey, Jason?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't think I'ma be running hills anytime soon."

There was a long pause before the comm clicks back to life. "Why not?"

"Because I'm… I'm pretty sure my leg is broken."

* * *

When Spenser comes to, everything is black. He was sure his eyes were open, but the utter darkness that surrounded him was suffocatingly thick. He tried to move, couldn't, and that's when the panic began to seep in. The more he tried to suck in air, the harder it got to breath, the more pain coursed through his body.

"Clay? Clay! Easy, brother, slow your breathing." A voice suddenly appears over him. This is when he starts to believe that he's dead. "Relax, man, you aren't making this any better."

Wait. He knows that voice. "B-Brock?" his voice is raspy and mouth dry. It feels like he ate a bucket of dirt.

"Yeah, kid, I'm here." Clay feels a comforting hand on his shoulder, relaxes slightly. "Try not to move, okay?" Why does Brock sound further away?

"Brock?" Clay whispers.

Bravo Five raises his voice, but it sounds strained now. "I'm still here."

Clay coughs. "I can't see you."

"Working… on it," comes an even more strained reply. Clay can hear something crash, shift. Then silence.

A few, rather long, seconds pass before light breaks through the darkness. It was small, so not the sun. Still, it was enough to make Clay squint as it shone on his face.

"Better?" asks Brock as he kneels beside Spenser.

Clay manages to nod. "Yeah." He pauses, then asks the question that is at the forefront of his mind as he tried to recall the reason for their current situation. "What, uh, what happened?"

"I think an explosion of some kind." Brock uses his light to look around the small opening of debris he and Clay were trapped in. He coughs, clears his throat best he can. "It felt like the ground shifted… and it looks like we've sunk into the ground a bit. I can't see much other than dirt and wood. And more dirt."

"I mean… before that."

Shit. "What do you remember?"

The only light in the hole was starting to give him a headache, so Clay closes his eyes as he thinks back as far as he could. "We… we breeched the target building… saw the target right before they, uh, jumped me. I felt weird, tried to fight them, then… Uhh, that's it."

Brock takes a mental note of Clay's memory, how his words trailed off and were starting to sound a bit sluggish. Or were they? Brock finds his own mind wandering, takes note of that, too. "Yeah. The target got a good lick in, Clay."

Spenser swallows the thick lump that quickly formed in his throat. "How… bad?"

Reynolds shifts his body, so he is on both knees. He reaches into his bag with his left hand, tries to hide the wince that escapes his mouth and pulls out a canteen that is half full of water. He helps the younger SEAL take a couple sips before tucking it back away.

"Brock, how… How bad?" asks Clay after Bravo Five refuses to answer. "Brock… how bad is it?" the kid was shaking now. Brock couldn't tell if shock was finally setting in or if it was due to another matter entirely. One he couldn't see.

"When the target tackled you, they had a knife." Brock feels a pang in his chest as he sees the look on Clay's face, realization dawning on him. "I think its deep but I… I can't be sure."

"W-why not?" Clay asks with a quivering voice. "Why can't you… why aren't y-you—"

"Because," Brock starts, unsure how to proceed. He couldn't lie to the kid, even if he wanted to. Brock clears his throat again, says, "Because… it's still there."

Clay tries to think about anything other than the fact Brock just told him they were basically buried alive. And how a knife is still in his body.

But he can't.

"What! Take it out!" Clay starts to shift more, tries to look down to see where the blade was located in his body. His hands moved to the location his muddled brain instructed. "Take it out, Brock! Please! Take it out!"

"Stop it! Clay! Six, that's enough!" Brock grits his teeth as he uses both hands to pin Clay's shoulders to the ground, ignoring his own pains that spiked in the process. "Trent would kill me if I pulled it out; as far as I can tell, that blade is acting like a plug, keeping you from bleeding out. Now stop moving. We can't have this getting worse."

Clay turns to his training to calm himself down. It was hard, but his sniper breathing was helping, if but a little. When his breathing has evened out, he asks, "Can you.. can you raise anyone on c-comms?"

Brock shakes his head. "Tried. Got nothing."

"Okay. Okay," Clay's eyes are getting heavy. He feels a rough hand on his shoulder, keeping him from the encroaching darkness. "W-what?"

"You know the rules. Stay awake."

"Those rules… suck." But he obeys regardless. "You think… the others are 'kay?"

Brock shifts he weight again, this time so he is leaning against the dirt wall opposite of Spenser. He cradles his right arm in his left, bites his lip to keep from groaning in pain. He tries to ignore the grinding sound his shoulder is making, at how quickly it is starting to stiffen. He needs to focus on the kid. Help him hold on until the others can find them. _At least Cerb isn't here… don't know what I'd do if he were trapped, too…_

After a short pause—due to Brock forgetting what the question was or his thinking of an answer remains to be seen—Bravo Five finally says, "Hope so, kid."

* * *

"What do you mean you can't get us help? Sonny is literally laying on the ledge of a cliff and Brock and Clay are still MIA! I don't give a damn what strings you have to pull, Eric, pull all of them!" Ray ran a shaking hand down his face, overwhelmed with emotions. He releases the button for his comms, looks at Jason who is talking to Sonny, while Trent assess the damage of the building. He presses the button, "Sorry, Blackburn."

"I hear you, Ray, I do. But Brass has denied all of my requests. I suggested rerouting Alpha Team this way to give you some help, but they are still a day out, at least."

"We can't wait that long. We don't know what condition everyone is in."

"I know."

"Is it really our only option?"

"I'm working other avenues." Lt. Commander Blackburn can feel the pain coming through Bravo Two's comms. After watching the events unfold on ISR, and not being able to do anything… Eric was pissed. "The best we can do right now is watch your six while you work on getting Quinn topside and locating Reynolds and Spenser. I'll keep you informed."

"Copy that." Ray says, accepting the facts. "Bravo Two out."

"Anything?" Trent asks as he sees Ray walking back over.

"No. We're on our own." Ray juts his head towards Jason, who is still talking to Sonny, trying to keep Bravo calm and awake. "How is he?"

"Possible concussion, few cuts. He got off easy thanks to you."

"Yeah. Do I need to give you a once over?"

Trent shakes his head. "Nah, I'm good. Let's just figure out how to get Sonny up here before the sound of water drives him crazy."

Ray narrows his eyes, not buying it. But he doesn't press the matter. For now. "Yeah, I've been thinking about that. We have enough line between the three of us, and that tree line it close enough-"

"I can rappel down, stabilize Sonny, and bring him back up. After that Jason can stay with him while you and I look for Brock and Clay." Trent nods at the plan. But Ray is shaking his head. "What?"

"You aren't going down."

"What're you talking about? Sonny's leg is broken, we don't know how badly, and Jason is not in any condition to hold his weapon straight let alone go over a cliff." Trent protests. "Why wouldn't I be the one to go down?"

Ray puts a hand on Trent's shoulder, trying to keep their unofficial medic calm. "I hear you, brother, I do. But don't pretend you didn't get banged up just like Jase and I did. You've taught us all enough for me to recognize that glazy look in your eye, even in the dark. How many fingers am I holding up?"

Trent looks at Ray's hand, scoffs. "Ray—"

"How bad does your head hurt?"

"We're wasting time—"

"I know that!" Ray says, shoving Trent back with both hands. "And I can't let you go over that cliff knowing it would come down to _me_ pulling you _and_ Quinn back topside."

"Everything good here?" says Hayes as he steps between the two men. He takes a moment to look between then, gages the level of emotions pouring off of them. "Is it?"

"Yeah. All good. I'm going down to stabilize Sonny, get him back up top." Replies Ray, not breaking eye contact with Trent. "Trent was just getting ready to anchor a line to this tree for me."

Jason turns to Bravo Four. "That true, Trent?"

"Yeah."

"Okay then." Jason rubs his head, pinches the bridge of his nose, sighs. "The sound of water is starting to make Sonny go crazy, probably the pain too, so let's get the show on the road."

Trent walks off without another word.

After Bravo Four secured and triple checked Ray's line, Jason's 2IC prepared to go over the edge, with Trent's med bag strapped to his back.

When Ray got to Sonny, he would give him something for the pain, and look to see how bad the break was. Then, using extra line tied to Bravo Three, Ray would guide Sonny back to the top with Jason and Trent pulling them both up.

"Hey, brother. How're you feeling?"

Sonny chuckles, regrets it, and smiles upon seeing Ray standing over him. When did that happen? He doesn't remember closing his eyes, but ever since Jason stopped talking to him…

"Sonny, hey! You with me?"

"Yeah, yeah I ain't left." Sonny groans.

"Good."

"My leg feels like shit."

"I'm gonna give you something for that right now. Then we'll get you back on solid ground and Trent can look at that leg."

"Hey, did you…" Sonny finds himself relaxing slightly as he feels a prick in his leg, the pain shifts slightly to something not so awful. "D'you check on the kid? What'd Brock say?"

"Let's just focus on you right now."

Quinn noticed that Perry was quite all while he looked at his leg, stabilized it, talking into the comms, to which he couldn't hear the conversation. They probably switched channels. Pricks. After a few minutes, he was attached to a couple lines and Ray was guiding him up the side of the cliff he fell over. The sound of water was getting further and further away. Good.

He closes his eyes, just for a second. A rough hand presses his shoulder.

"What?"

"You gotta stay awake while I look you over, tell me what hurts."

Three considers Four's order, says, "Would saying everything help any?"

Trent doesn't look up. "No."

"How's he looking?" asks Jason from his spot on the ground. He is leaning against a tree, only because Trent saw him stumble while shifting through debris with Ray. Nearly an hour had passed since they got Sonny off of the outcropping, but it felt longer.

"Compound break of his left tibia, probable fracture of his left fibula." Four looks up, noticed that Sonny had finally passed out, after fighting for an hour. He really wanted him to stay awake, but he could only give him so much for the pain. "He's pretty bruised all over, head lac that's finally stopped bleeding. His left wrist is swollen. Probably swallowed some dirt."

"So, not great?"  
"Being swept over a cliff will do that."

"Hm."

Trent finishes doing what he could for Sonny. He looks around the perimeter, doesn't see anything, and goes to join Ray in their search for Brock and Clay.

"How's your head?" asks Ray upon seeing Trent walking over to the pile of rocks and wood and remnants of their targets house.

"Fine." Comes Four's flat reply.

Ray figured he was mad at him, but he'd get over it. "Just asking, man."

"You should take a break, get some water." Trent says after a few minutes of silent searching. "I can search for awhi—"

"Shh."

"Look, Ray, I—"

"Trent, shut up!" Ray holds up his hand, strains his hears. The sound of silence is heavy in the late night, but after a few seconds, he hears it again. "There. You hear that?"

Trent waits, thinks he hears something, waits again. There it is. "What it that?"

"A signal. Help me move this."

Together the two SEALs lift a piece of broken wall, shift through broken fragments of furniture and other broken objects. The sound—an uneven banging—gets louder and louder with each item they move.

"Brock? Brock, Clay? Can you hear us?"

The banging speeds up, then slows down, then speeds up again. Trent and Ray move as fast as they dare, mindful of the soft ground beneath their feet.

"C'mon, guys answer us!"

An unknown amount of time passed before Bravo's Two and Four saw a flicker of light shine through the ground. Ray gets down on his knees and peers through the fist sized hole, tries to see what was below them. "Spenser? Reynolds? Guys?!"

"Ray!"

"Brock! Shit, are we glad you hear your voice. Are y'all okay? Where's the kid?"

"I'm fine, but… Spenser's in rough shape." Says Brock through a fit of coughs. He quickly fills them in, especially Trent, with Clay's known injuries and what happened. "I've tried to keep him talking, but he's sluggish. Can't get him to focus."

"Is his abdomen hard?"

"No, uh, I… I'm pretty sure… I think the blade is acting like a plug." Brock coughs again, tries to keep his thoughts straight so he can relay information correctly. "There isn't a lot of blood, but I'd…feel better if he were out of this hole."

Trent sighs, happy to hear that Brock didn't take the knife out. However, that also meant they needed to make a hole large enough to where the blade wouldn't snag on something when they pull the kid out. He wasn't sure this structure would hold such changes. And the ground was already weak, they couldn't—

"Guys! I just heard from Blackburn. There's a small clearing two klicks from our location. Exfil was approved. Help is on the way." Says Jason over comms.

Ray presses the button on his comm, "ETA?"

"ETA 60 mikes."

Two looks at Four, both men realizing what that meant.

They had less than 60 minutes to get Clay and Brock out of the hole and somehow make it two the exfil point. They knew exfil would not be able to wait for them forever, so they would need to act quickly. And two klicks didn't seem to be far, distance wise, but they were all banged up—some more than others.

"You two just hold tight, don't move. We're gonna get you out." Ray's words are meant to be reassuring. But even he isn't sure how he and Trent are going to pull this off. "Just hold on."

* * *

Brock was having a hard time. He struggled to keep Clay awake and talking, couldn't find a way out that didn't result in them being buried again, and the amount of pain he was in was making itself known to him in full force.

"Hey, Spenser?" he calls out to Clay, who doesn't respond. Brock tries again. "Clay? Dammit, Clay, answer me!" No reply. Brock pushes himself off the dirt wall, pulls himself to the youngest SEALs side. Resting on his knees, he presses two fingers to his neck and waits, sighing when he feels a pulse beneath his fingers. "Clay, wake up, brother. C'mon, now, open those eyes."

"Hmm…"

"Clay, you gotta stay awake." Brock tries to keep his brother talking, but it was a fruitless battle. "Shit!"

Reynolds leans back once more, coughs. He thought the air in the small opening was getting thinner… or maybe it was his imagination. He wasn't sure of anything other than the fact that he needed to find a way out. He had faith that the rest of Bravo was looking for them, even though he had no reason to believe they even made it out alive. But he couldn't give up, and let the kid die in the process.

When he sees a piece of broken wood and a large pot, Brock knows what he can do.

"B-Brock?"

Bravo Five stops his banging at the faint sound of his name. He sees Clay, who is staring straight ahead, not really looking at anything. "Yeah, kid?"

"Brock, I'm—I can't, I can't—" stammers Spenser. Brock can only guess that an infection has begun to set in. "Hey, Brock?"

"Yeah, Clay, I'm right here. What is it?" urges Five, but Six had already passed out once more. "Clay? Clay!"

Brock continues to bang on the pot, then on anything else he could find. After a few minutes, the area above him started to shift, causing dirt and wood to fall on top of and around him. He reacts—pushes his pain to the back corners of his mind—and uses his body to protect Clay once again.

He tries to hold his breath, not wanting to inhale everything that came his way, but it was impossible. Brock coughs, and again and again and again. His right shoulder screams at him and he can hardly ignore the pain as something slams into his back. But he doesn't move. He has to protect Clay. Brock is sure he hears someone call his name, but it is faint. He grits his teeth, strains his ears waits.

"Brock? Brock, Clay? Can you hear us?"

"Ray?" Brock says, though his voice isn't very high. "We're down here! Hey!"

"… guys answer us—"

Brock pushes a broken piece of something off of his back, checks Spenser for any new wounds or changes. Finding none, Five shines his light around the hole that is now smaller than when he first awoke. Then he sees it: a hole about the size of his fist. And there was someone on the other side of it.

"Spenser? Reynolds? Guys?!"

"Ray!"

"Brock! Shit, are we glad you hear your voice. Are y'all okay? Where's the kid?"

"I'm—I'm fine, but… Spenser's in rough shape." Says Brock through a fit of coughs. He then explains the situation best he can, telling Trent how the kid was fairing—or wasn't.

It seemed to take a while for one of his brothers to replied. He felt himself drifting slightly, now that he knows his brother—at least two of them—made it out okay. He just had to help Trent and Ray get Clay back on level ground, then he'd sleep until kingdom came.

"You two just hold tight, don't move. We're gonna get you out. Just hold on."

Brock tries not to laugh at Ray's choice of words. Somehow, a smile does work its way past his dry, cracked lips. He turns to Clay, places a hand on his shoulder. "You hear that, kid? Helps coming."

Clay hears his name—or at least the name the rest of Bravo insists on calling him. He knew Brock was still there, felt him next to him in that small opening of a hole. But he could hear other voices, too. Voices he knew. His brothers.

He isn't sure how long he had been trapped down there. The ache in his middle was now barely noticeable. Did Brock finally take the knife out? Regardless the answer, Clay figured this was probably a bag sign. Did someone turn the AC on? Why was he so cold? _Focus, Clay, focus._

"Clay? Clay, you with me?"

Spenser opens his eyes as much as he can. It's not very much. Through the slits of his eyes, he can see Brock leaning over him. "Brock, I—" he starts, winces as a breath catches in his lungs. "I want t-to go h-home." Tears well up in his eyes, washing away bits of dirt as it ran down his face.

"Not much longer now, kid. Just hang in there." Brock does what he can to comfort the kid, tries once more to keep him awake and talking while Ray and Trent work on making a hole large enough for them to crawl through.

With the aid of his light, Five could tell he and Clay were between six and eight feet below the surface, but the hole Trent and Ray were able to make was like a steep slope. It would be more climbing on his part than pulling for the others. And as Brock eyes the opening best he could, he wondered how they would get the Spenser out with a knife still embedded in his side.

Trent and Ray worked as quickly as they could, making the hole large enough for Brock and Clay to crawl through. After a few minutes of constant moving and shifting debris, they stopped. "Brock?" Four calls.

Reynolds looks up, stifling a groan as he did. "Yeah?"

"We can't risk making this hole any larger, with the ground as unstable as it is." The unofficial medic says. "How long is the blade's handle?"

"Uh," Brock looks at Clay's side. He tries to look at the item in question, but he is struggling and can't tell how long it is, so he says, "I don't know, uh, maybe two, three inches?"

Ray takes note, looks at Trent. "Think its wide enough?"

Four groans, nods slightly. "It'll have to be. Brock, we're sending down a line. Get ready."

"Copy that." Once he had the line, Brock expertly attaches it to Clay, being careful of his injuries. He then guides his brother to the hole and helps Trent and Ray as best he could. "Ready!"

Upon Brock's signal, Trent and Ray begin to pull Clay up the messy slope of debris and dirt. Below, Brock does what he can to keep the younger man steady. Bravo Four had just grabbed hold of Clay when the ground rumbled and shifted without warning. The hole, that had since been held up by pieces of beams and walling, began to crack beneath the change in weight.

"Keep pulling!" shouts Brock. He continues to push Clay up the slope. Debris continues to rain down around them. Bravo Five doesn't stop.

The seconds pass like centuries, but Trent and Ray finally pulled Clay out of the hole. The team medic quickly sets to work on the kid when a noise followed by a shout resounded behind him. Trent looks over his shoulder and is met with horror.

Dust fills the air.

Ray is franticly digging through rocks, wood and dirt.

In the area they just opened.

The hole they just used to pull Clay out.

But Brock is nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly a bright light shines overhead, illuminating the area and the men spread about. The sound of a chopper overhead was like music to Trent's ears, but he had to focus on the kid in front of him.

Clay feels his body moving, but it happens without his consent. And he doesn't like it. Clay forces his eyes open, expects to see the darkness of the hole like the last time he awoke, but was instead met with the open night sky above him. "Brock?" the name is weak, and it hurts to say. Spenser rolls his head to the side, looking for Bravo Five. "Brock?"

"Hey, kid." That's not Brock. Clay blinks his tired eyes a few times, clears the image before him. "You're gonna be alright. Just sit tight, let me work."

"T-Trent?" comes Clay's confused reply. "W-where's Brock? W-what hap'ened?" he tried to sit up, but the medic is quick to push him back down. "Trent wha's goin'… wha' hap'nd?"

"Easy, kid, easy. I've got ya." Trent looks at the wound, concluded that Brock was right about the blade acting like a plug. He gives the kid painkillers.

"Tre—" Clay passes out as the drugs take hold. Trent gives the unconscious Spenser something to stave off the infection that has likely set in when two men appear in front of them. Seeing their patches and gear, he fills them in best he can as they place Clay in a stretcher.

Bravo Four stands, wavers, looks around for his brothers. Sonny is already on his way to the exfil point. Someone has a hold of Jason's arm.

"Sir, I need you to come with me. Exfil will be leaving in three mikes." Someone says. Trent hears them, but he isn't listening.

He stumbles over to Ray's side, falls to his knees.

"C'mon, faster!" shouts Perry. "Hurry up!"

Time moved slowly as Trent helps Ray and two other people dig through the debris, looking for Five.

Then someone shouts.

In a rush, Brock is pulled from the collapsed hole and none to gently hoisted over someone's shoulders. The group double times it to the chopper at the exfil point. One chopper had just left with Jason, Sonny and Clay aboard. Ray helped pull Five into the chopper, then Trent. When everyone was aboard, and the last man gave a thumbs up and the final chopper headed back to base.

* * *

"How are they?"

"Alive." Lt. Commander Blackburn notes Davis' relief. Granted he felt the same when he heard the news. But alive wasn't always the best news. Eric fills Lisa in on the details he knew about. "Sonny and Clay were taken to surgery right away. Jason is being treated for a moderate concussion; they'll probably want to keep him overnight at least. Ray has a few cuts and bruises and Trent nearly passed out when they got here. Turns out he has a concussion, caught a couple pieces of wood in his leg and didn't say anything. And Brock—" Blackburn rubs his face, the pressure of knowing what Bravo went through weighing on him.

"Is he—"

"No. Nonono." Eric is quick to say after seeing the horror on Lisa's face. "He has a broken clavicle, cracked ribs. He took a beating, and that was before he was caught in the cave-in."

"My god."

"Yeah. I haven't heard anything in a while. You should get some rest."

"Uh, I'm good. I want to be here for them."

Blackburn nods. "I'll grab some coffee."

"Thanks."

* * *

A few hours later, a doctor informed Blackburn and Davis that Ray, Trent and Jason would be fine, no need to keep them overnight. Sonny, Clay and Brock would be at the hospital for a bit longer, depending on how each recover. The next 24 hours would tell them more.

Jason sits in Clay's room, trying to not pick at the bandage around his head. It itched, and he wanted to sleep, but after hearing about Spenser's injuries, he knew he needed to be close by. He kept Mandy updated since the CIA agent was needed back stateside to debrief the situation to her bosses. With nothing else to do, Jason simply waited.

"Master Chief Hayes?"

Jason snaps his eyes open at something touching his arm. He looks around wildly, trying to gather his bearings. Finally, his eyes land on a nurse to his right. "Yeah, yeah, what is it what happened what's going on?" he asks in a rush.

"We are going to wake him up now."

Jason relaxes a bit, looks at Clay's still form. "Is that, uh, good? Doesn't he need the rest?"

"All of our tests indicate he is strong enough. He hasn't woken up on his own and it's been 31 hours. We need to be sure there isn't any damage our machines didn't pick up." Says the doctor in the room. "We don't know what will happen, so we'd like you to be the first person he sees, if that's all right with you?"

"Okay, sure." Jason approaches the bed, stands by his brother's side and waits for the doctors to do whatever it is they are going to do. He sees Ray and Trent enter the room, there to offer their own support.

"Give him a minute." Someone says. "Talk to him. It'll be good for him to hear your voice."

"Hey, kid? Spense, it's time to wake up now, okay. Your safe now, you can wake up."

Clay felt like he was drowning. Scratch that: he was drowning. And then the feeling of water pressing against this chest was gone and it felt like he was floating back to earth.

"Clay?"

He hears his name, doesn't know where it came from.

"That's it, Clay. Open your eyes."

 _I'm trying!_ Clay yells. Or, he thinks he yells. He tries again, still surrounded by darkness. He tries again, still nothing. He wants to give up. _I… I can't._

"Don't give up, kid. We're here for you."

"C'mon, brother, you've got this."

Clay tries to open his eyes again. He keeps trying until the darkness gives way to a dim light. His first thought is he's still trapped in that hole with a knife in his side. He shuts his eyes, not wanting to face that reality.

"Clay, your safe. It's okay, brother, your okay. You're in the hospital."

Once more, Clay opens his eyes. And after letting his vision focus, he can tell that he is, indeed, not trapped in the hole. He glances down to his side, doesn't see a handle. Spenser blinks, looks at the men standing around him.

"Hey, brother." Greets Ray with a gentle pat of Clay's leg. "Welcome back."

"Your okay?" he asks, referring to his teammates. He notices they are two members short. "Where's—"

"They're alive, don't worry. Sonny has a broken leg, some cuts and bruises, but in a few months, with rehab, he'll be fine." Trent informs him. "Brock took a beating, but he'll be fine too. They're both down the hall resting."

Clay lets the news sink in. "He saved my life. Brock, he… he used his body t-to keep the debris from h-hitting me. More than once." The heart monitor starts to pick up slightly, and Jason is quick to tell the kid to relax. "He saved my life."

"I guess this means you owe him a case of beer. Maybe something stronger."

Clay leans back deeper into the pillow. "I'm just glad I don't have to give Cerberus bad news."

"Well…" Trent trails off with a sly grin.

"What?" asks Clay, not following the medic.

"Brock has a broken collar bone. That's a bitch of a break. He has to wear this weird harness-sling-brace thing, which means he can't take Cerb to the beach and throw balls and exercise him daily. How do you think Cerb will react to his human not being the same for a few weeks?"

Jason and Ray start laughing, knowing where Trent was going. Clay, on the other hand, did not find it so amusing.

"Do worry, we'll help."

"Yep. I call beach duty!"

-FIN-


	9. When the Morning Comes

**Plot: Clay is injured and doesn't tell the team. But that's only because he doesn't know.**

 **5: When the Morning Comes (One-Shot)**

* * *

No mission is easy.

Sure, some are not as hard as others, and some require more effort than others, but there is no such thing as an easy mission. Straightforward maybe, but definitely not easy.

"Bravo Two, take Six and get high. Let me know the second our target convoy enters our kill zone." Commands Bravo One.

"Copy that. Let's roll, kid." Ray says as he gets to his feet and takes the dirt path that will give him and Clay a better vantage point of the area.

"Right behind you." Says Clay as he follows Ray footsteps, using his NVGs and the low hanging moon to light his path.

"Three, how we lookin'?" Jason asks into his comms. He'd sent Sonny and Trent to set explosives in the path of their target vehicle, effectively stopping the motorcade in the kill zone they set.

"Three to One, all set. Waiting for your word."

"Copy. Hold for my signal." Says Jason.

Trent adjusts his scope when he sees the target vehicles approaching. "I've got eyes on, Boss."

"Two?"

"Getting set."

"Copy. As soon as Three blows the charges and the motorcade stops, we take them out."

Five copies resounded through Hayes' comms.

Bravo Team waited.

The mission was to eliminate a local drug lord, who was rumored to be in the game for something more deadly than lowly heroine or meth. Mandy's intel suggested he was on the market for biological explosives. Brass and the CIA wanted the problem taken care of before things could get worse.

Straightforward enough. Right?

"Motorcade has entered the kill zone." Ray says.

"On my mark." Jason waits a few more seconds. "Three… two… one… blow it."

 _BOOOOOOOOM!_

The three vehicles slam to a halt and fighting aged males pour out, taking aim and firing in no particular direction. Within a few, short seconds, those same men lay dead on the dirt ground, eliminated with expert shots from each member of Bravo.

"We're in the clear, Boss." Clay says after waiting a few moments.

"Bravo One to HAVOC base. Target eliminated."

 _"Good copy, One. Get what you came for and head for exfil."_ Lt. Commander Blackburn says from base.

"Good copy, out. All right. Sonny, Clay, Ray take watch. The rest of us will check the vehicles and then head for exfil."

After Two, Three and Six set up watch, One, Four and Five begin to look for any intel in the target vehicle and on the dead men. Trent took a photo of the drug lord for confirmation and then searched his body for anything they could use to find out who was selling deadly bioweapons. After a few minutes of searching, he'd found something that looked promising.

"Boss. I've got a briefcase over here." Trent says from the middle car. Jason, having come up empty in the lead car, jogs over to see what Four found. "I've got an address book, dates, meeting times and locations. Some sort of badge or key."

"One to HAVOC, come in?"

 _"Go for HAVOC."_

"We've got a briefcase of intel here. Jackpot."

 _"That's a strong copy, One. Be advised the sun comes up in two hours. Best to be outta there before the drug lord's pals realize he didn't show up for work."_

Jason can't help but smile as he takes the intel and secures it into his bag. "Copy, HAVOC. Heading for exf—"

"Contact east!" Clay suddenly shouts when he sees a small group of fighters materialize out of the darkness of night. The sound of gunfire breaks the once silent night as Bravo engages with the enemy.

"I've got more coming in hot. Southwest side!" shouts Ray as he ducks down and reloads his weapon. "There's too many, Jason!" he jumps back up and aims at the men quickly advancing but it doesn't appear to be doing them any good.

 _"HAVOC to One, you many fighting aged males closing on your current location. You'll be overrun unless you deviate from your position and make for the tree line that is due North of your position."_

Hayes looks north, sees the trees Blackburn mentioned. It wasn't their original exfil plan, as he recalls seeing the backup area on the map before they arrived earlier in the day. He also recalls that route added 45 mikes to their exfil time.

"One to HAVOC. Can you get exfil any closer?"

 _"Stand by One."_

Jason returns fire while he waits, covers Brock as he reloads his weapon, ducks back down to do the same.

 _"HAVOC to One. Exfil can meet you at a clearing 20 mikes from your current location, but the terrain in that area is less than ideal."_ Says Eric as he himself looks at a map Davis pulled up. _"You'll have cover from the trees, but we won't have eyes on you with ISR."_

"Copy that. We'll take it." Jason relays the info to his team and takes aim at the fighters. When given the word, each man makes for the trees. Trent and Sonny are the first to head for the tree line, covered by their brothers until they blended with the branches and leaves. Next were Ray and Brock, who double timed it as the fighters got closer and closer. Then it came down to Jason and Clay. "Kid, you're up."

Clay knew better than to argue with Jason at a time like this, so he readies himself, waits for his brothers to open fire, then runs for the trees.

The distance looked far at first, and he stumbled a couple times, but as fast as Clay ran, he crossed it in no time. Hands quickly grabbed onto his gear and pulled him down to the ground and he quickly joined his brothers in giving Jason cover as he ran for the trees himself.

Once within the cover of foliage, Bravo Team made their way towards their new exfil point, pushing themselves to go faster knowing they had many fighters on their tail. After a few minutes, Jason orders them to stop and take cover behind the large trees. He needed to know that everyone was good after that firefight.

"One minute. Everyone look yourselves over, let Trent know what, if any, injuries you have. No surprises." Orders Hayes as he worked to even out his breathing.

The injuries sustained were as minor as cuts from running into a tree branch to a twisted ankle from stepping on a rock. Jason found a graze on his left bicep and couldn't tell if it were from a bullet or branch, but other than that there were no serious injuries. Small victories.

Jason looks at Bravo, then to the slopped hill before them. "Okay, Blackburn said this terrain was rough, so let's go as easily as we can. Ray, you're up first, set up watch once there. I'll hold the back while everyone else moves."

Ray climbed the hill using rocks and roots as foot holds. He knew the others were watching his every step, so he didn't waste time in telling this what was safe to use and what wasn't.

One by one Bravo Team made their way up the hill. Sonny and Brock did so in little time, took up watch positions once topside with Ray. Trent took a little longer with his twisted ankle, but still moved at a good pace. Clay was moving well until he got about halfway up the hill. He lost his grip on a root but recovered quick enough to where no one noticed. At least, that's what he told himself. By the time he hauled himself over the dirt edge, breathing got a bit harder. He coughed a couple of times, then joined the others on watch while Jason made his was up to them.

Bravo Team continued their way towards exfil. Ray was still on point and Jason in the rear, but Brock had to throw Trent's arm over his shoulder as the medic's ankle was getting anything but better. No one said a word as they pushed on, listening for any sign of the fighters—or any other enemy that may be close by.

Spenser was really feeling like crap. And he didn't know why, which was slightly worrisome. _Did I get hit back there?_ He thinks to himself. He knows Hayes—well, all the guys for that matter—hate it when someone keeps injuries from the team. But he looked himself over, saw no signs of injuries. _So why is it getting harder to breathe?_

"Clay? Clay?!" someone grabs his shoulders, places a hand under his bearded chin. "You good?"

Spenser blinks a few times. _Jason?_ "Yeah, yeah, Boss, I'm good." He coughs a few times, then moves again, before Jason can question him further.

Bravo One isn't convinced. He'll have the kid get checked out back at base.

Soon, after what felt like hours after the firefight, the exfil site came into view. A chopper was waiting for them, someone waved them forward while another watched their six. Ray is the first on in the chopper, helping Sonny, then Trent inside. Brock was next when sparks bounced off the side of the aircraft right as someone shouted.

Jason turned around and took aim at one, four, fighters. The number multiplied. "Six, get in the chopper!" he yells.

Clay hears the words, but his mind and body are not one the same page. He, somehow, manages to take three steps before his legs give out completely.

Gravity takes over and he falls to the ground.

He tires, really he does, but he can't move.

"Man down!" Brock wastes no time in running back to the youngest SEALs side, kneeling over him and returning fire. Something catches his leg, but he does waver. When there is a lull in the gunfire, he grabs Spenser by his vest and limps the rest of the way to the still waiting chopper while his brothers gave him cover. "Jason! Last man!"

Hayes makes a break for the chopper, diving into the cab as it takes off. Multiple sets of hands grab hold of him and his gear, pulling him the rest of the way as the chopper fades into the dawn sky with bullets still striking the underbelly.

This is when he finally sees the state of his brothers.

Ray looks worn down, but relatively unhurt. Sonny has cuts all over his face and small leaves in his beard from running into the tree. Brock is holding a towel to the wound on his lower leg. And Trent is propped on his side as he tries to get a better look at—

"Clay!" says Jason as his eyes settle on the kid. _Their_ kid. "What the hell happened? Trent?"

"I don't know!"

"I c-ca-n't… I… brea'the!" gasps Spenser. His hands fumble around, trying to grip something—someone—but he came up empty. "…c-can't… I… ca't… I…"

Trent is working through his own pain, running his hands over the kid's body, trying to find the source of –

"Did he get hit?"

"He didn't say anything if he did."

"There's no blood! I can't see what's wr—" Trent stops himself short when his fingers find a dent, no, two dents in Spenser's gear. "He took a couple rounds to his back plate, probably cracked his ribs. Help me get his gear off."

Jason and Sonny expertly removed Clay's gear, then Trent cuts away his shirt. Ray turns on a light, making sure that Trent could see well enough. Brock sits back out of the way, but ready by Trent's medical bag when needed.

"If this is from the first ambush, then the bullets could've cracked or broken his ribs." Trent repeats, though he is mostly talking to himself at this point. "That could've punctured his lungs and have only gotten worse since—"

Clay is still gasping. His eyes are darting around. He barely feels someone place a hand on his arm, his leg, but those sensations are quickly fading as the edges of his vision darken.

"Stay with me, Spenser! Just a little longer."

"ETA two mikes!" the pilot shouts, knowing the situation behind him is dire.

"You hear that, kid? Just a couple more minutes and Trent and the docs are gonna patch you up." Clay can see Ray's mouth moving, but the words are jumbled. "Clay? Clay?!"

Clay doesn't hear his name.

His eyes slip shut.

He stops breathing right as the chopper lands.

* * *

Bravo Team has had better days. One could tell just by looking at the men that this mission, as straightforward as it was, was really anything but. Missions were never easy, and rarely straightforward.

The dawning day found the team in various places. Jason paced in the waiting room with his hands either shoved in his pockets or clasped behind his head. It switched often. Ray sat slumped in a chair, too tired to change his position after the many hours that passed. Sonny, with cleaned and bandaged cuts on his face, leaned against the wall. He would say he was holding it up, but it was really the other way around. Trent, after Blackburn and Hayes ordered him to, finally got his ankle looked at. Hairline fracture. He'd have to wear a boot for a couple of weeks, but he'd be fine. Brock, having bled in the chopper and in the base hospital entrance, willingly went with a nurse who gently grabbed his arm. He'd probably fall it is wasn't for her firm grip. That and the wheelchair she brought for him.

And Clay? Well, the doctors haven't told them yet.

"Bravo Team?"

Everyone whips around at the sound of the doctor's voice. "Spenser is going to be fine. He gave us a scare on the table, but after we fixed his ribs and repaired his lungs, he stabilized quickly."

There was an audible sigh of relief in the room.

"Can we see him?" Hayes asks, knowing it was on everyone's mind.

The doctor considers this, and the rules they have in place. "Sure. But make it quick. He's just had surgery and really needs his rest."

Bravo says their thanks and follow the small woman to Clay's room. Once there, she leaves them to attend to her other duties, telling them to call should they need something.

Jason is the first on in the room, stopping by Spenser's side. He looks small, like an actual kid, even though they know he isn't. Six's eyes flutter open at the slight change in the room.

"Hey, Ken Doll."

Clay cracks a half smile, but nothing more than that. Doing so would take too much energy. And that was something he sorely lacked.

"We really need to work on some things with you, kid." Hayes pats Clay's leg. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Clay pushes himself up as much as he can, which isn't very much at all. "I di't… know."

Seems reasonable enough.

"We're just glad your okay. Gave us a real scare." Ray tells the young SEAL.

"S'ry." Clay closes his eyes for a moment, then opens them again, looks at the state of brothers. "You… 'kay?"

Ray points at each man as he says, "Well, Sonny ran into a tree, Trent lost a fight with a rock, and Brock took a bullet meant for your skinny ass."

Sonny adds, "It came out of nowhere."

"It was dark!" Trent quickly jumps in, defending himself. "And the rock was larger than it looked!"

Brock simply shrugs from his seat, his leg propped up. "And Jase and Ray are just old. Could barely keep up."

"Oh, shit!"

"Zing!"

-FIN-


	10. Of Wages and Consequences

**AN: I'm taking a break from beating up my favs to bring something more lighthearted. No whump, just pure brotherly moments and poor choices. And the Perry's marriage is perfect as it should be. Enjoy!**

 **Plot: Bets are made. Chaos ensues.**

 **6: Of Wages and Consequences**

#

"Ain't no way he makes that shot."

"He hasn't missed yet."

"And how many drinks already? Look at him! He can barely stand up straight!"

"No, I think he's still got it."

Jason Hayes walks into the bar, sees his team huddled around a dart board. "What's this madness about?" he asks as he walks over.

"Sonny doesn't think Clay can hit the bullseye three times in a row." Says Trent from his seat.

"From six meters, mind you." Ray chimes in. "It isn't that far, but the kid's got a few beers in him now."

"And a shot of Daniels!" someone shouts.

"He was on a roll for a while though."

Brock walks up, offers Jason a beer. "Then Sonny started talking."

"Hm." Jason says as he sips the drink. "Might be too late for him now."

"That's what I'm sayin'! See, Boss agrees with me." Sonny raises his hands in the air, as if victorious.

Clay looks around the bar, takes another drink, and smiles as an idea rolls into his mind. "Well, why don't we wager on it, then? Make it real interesting."

"Oh, dear lord, not again."

"No no no, I want to hear this!" Brock grabs a chair, pulls it closer so he doesn't miss any of the action.

"Sober Ray verses me. If I make three target shots in a row, from six meters out, then you have to detail my Mustang every day for a week, while wearing a costume of my choosing. Not including days we get spun-up."

All eyes turn to Ray.

"And when I win?"

"Ohhh!"

"What do you want to not happen?"

Ray smiles, the perfect idea coming to mind. "My home could use a thorough cleaning, rolling into spring and all."

"No problem." Clay sets his empty cup down.

Ray folds him arms. "I mean thorough. The house, vents, ducts, attic, basement, yard—"

"It's not gonna happen, but sure."

"And it'll be a bit of a time crunch, so I need it done over Spring Break. When the girls are out of town for the week."

Trent chuckles, slowly catching on to where Ray was going. Brock lean over, asks "Why's that funny?"

"Wait for it." Says Jason.

"Anything else? Or can we get this ball rolling?"

"Or darts flyin'? Eh? Eh?" everyone shakes their head at Sonny's misfired joke.

Ray takes a sip of water, nods his head at Sonny. "And you'll need your best bikini, brother. I'm sure you have one laying around somewhere."

"Done. Y'all want on this action?" Clay asks looking to Bravo.

"I look terrible in swimwear, but I'll put $50 on Ray." Jason takes out his wallet, sets the money down on the table.

"This is gonna be so much fun!" Sonny pulls out some money, laughs at what's about to go down. "I'll help you pick out a good bikini, Spenser, don't worry about that."

Brock and Trent each lay out a few bills on the pile of money, waiting for the games to begin.

"Seriously? No one's gonna bet on me?" Spenser asks upon seeing all of the money is on Ray's pile. "C'mon guys, that's cold."

"No as cold as your gonna be in my basement. Heats never worked down there and I'm pretty sure you'll be able to see your breath."

"All right, quit your yappin' and count it! Six meters!"

Sonny lines off the six-meter mark with a napkin, gives the two snipers three darts each. "May the best man win. And when I say man, I mean Ray." He smiles and jogs off to the side.

"Age before beauty." Clay says with a gesture to Ray.

"More like seniority before immaturity." Ray takes a green dart in his hand, lines up and lets it sail. It hits the center with a soft thud. "Thank you, next."

"Ohh, shit!"

"Zing!"

Clay shakes his head, lines up his own yellow dart and fires. It lands next to Ray's. "Your turn."

Ray shoots next, it lands center. Clay goes again, it's a repeat of his first shot.

"All right, it comes down to this." Jason looks at the board, then to Ray and Clay. "Who's it gonna be?

"What if they tie?" Trent asks.

"Then we split the money." Says Brock. "Or donate it."

Sonny shakes his head. "Yeah, donate it right back to the bar. Let's go already!"

Ray can't believe Naima lets him hang out with these guys. It's a miracle she hasn't banned him from these outings on their days off. _I guess there's still time for that to happen_ , Ray thinks as he lines up his final shot. It sails through the air…

…and barely misses the red bullseye.

"Ohh!" gasps Trent as he covers his mouth. "I did not see that coming."

Clay gently pushes a dejected Ray to the side as he lines up his final shot. "I like the smell of pine, by the way."

Spenser raises his arm, lines up his last dart.

It glides the six meters…

…and misses the center far left.

Brock, having leaned forward in anticipation, falls out of his seat.

"Well," says Hayes as he rubs the scruff on his face. "This is quite the turn of events."

"So, uh," starts Quinn as he looks between Clay and Ray. "what now?"

 **Spring Break Week**

"C'mon you two! We ain't got all day!" Sonny shouts through his cupped hands. He, Jason, Trent, Brock and even Cerberus were sitting in Ray's driveway with lawn chairs and snacks. The early morning didn't stop them from bringing beer, they would just drink it later. "I paid good money for these seats!"

"Shut up, Sonny! I'm not coming out!" comes Ray's muffled voice from the house.

"Don't make me tell Naima what's going on!" says Jason. He and the guys promised that they would never speak of this coming week, lest Mrs. Perry skin them all for getting her husband in over his head. "Hurry up! The sooner you get started, the sooner you finish."

"It's only day one of seven. Get the nerves out of the way and got for it!"

A door cracks open, and out steps Ray in what can only be described as round and fuzzy and neon purple. Perry waddles down the driveway, struggling to see through the enormous eyes on the costume's head. "This is stupid."

"Hey, you did it to yourself."

"I can't see, let alone bend over! How am I 'supposed to clean the kid's car?"

Not that Ray can see them, everyone shrugs in response, large grins on their faces.

Brock asks, "Where's Spenser?"

"Probably picking which bikini he looked best in." Sonny sips some water. "I gave him a few options. My favorite is the gold one with—"

"CLAY! Let's go!"

A few, painstakingly long seconds passed before young Spenser stepped out of the Perry home with a long, pink and white robe on.

"I'm pretty sure that's not Ray's, so Naima's gonna kill you." Jason says upon seeing Clay walk down the drive.

"No, she's not because she's not gonna know about this week."

No sooner than the words left his mouth, Jason, Sonny, Trent and Brock each whipped out their phones and pulled up photo or video mode.

"The hell! We agreed no proof for this!" says Clay as he pulls the robe tighter and tries to hide behind Ray.

"No, we said we wouldn't tell Mrs. Perry what went down while she was gone." Trent says as he zooms in.

"Not that we wouldn't have proof for ourselves to enjoy again and again after this week is over." Adds Brock as he tries—and fails—to stifle a laugh.

Jason grabs some water, and a handful of nuts. "Look, this is just proof that you shouldn't make wagers when you aren't prepared to face the consequences that come with losing."

"Agreed. Now let's see what Ken Doll borrowed from Barbie." Sonny says with anticipation.

"I hate you." Clay mutters as he unties the belt from around his waist, then adds a little louder, "I hate all of you."

"You did this to yourself, youngin'."

Suddenly, everyone's phones began buzzing and ringing. There were audible groans as the men quickly cleaned up and headed for their cars. Clay quickly runs back into the house.

"C'mon! That bell has the worse timing possible." Mutters Sonny as he tosses the snacks in his car.

Brock snaps a pic of the scene before calling Cerb to his truck. "Photo documentation for when we get back. We're picking up right where we left off."

"You better hope this is a short op or else Naima will have a lot of questions when she sees the SEAL in a bikini mowing her lawn!"

Ray fumbles with the head of the costume and he works to take it off. There is sweet relief on his face as he says, "Never been gladder to get called in than right now."

Clay jogs out of the house, making sure to lock it behind him. He is trying to buckle his pants and not fall out of his boots that he's only slipped on. "Same, man." He says. He slips his t-shirt on and gets into his car. "Next time let's just bet money. I need to go grocery shopping."

"Next time?" Ray says with slight shock. "You want another go? After all we gotta endure?"

"Yeah. Just so I can beat you." Says Clay. "And I really need food."

Ray huffs. "I'd rather go through BUD/S again."

Spenser turns his engine over, leans out of the window as he adds, "Loser has to go through a week of BUD/S training?"

Ray tosses a fuzzy paw/glove/thing as Clay speeds away. He can only shake his head as he gets in his car and heads for base. He isn't even sorry that he is leaving the fuzzy creature on the curb. _Maybe someone will steal it while I'm gone._

-FIN-

 **AN: Thanks for reading.**

 **Also, I have to ask.**

 **Are you ready for 2x17? Becuase I'm not!**


	11. Santa Muerte Tag

**Plot: a tag for 2x09, in which Bravo Four is just a bit more injured in the RPG blast and subsequent battle at the end of the episode. Trent Whump ensues.**

 **7: Santa Muerte Tag**

* * *

Trent told him that he couldn't get to his main aid pack when they were ambushed.

Told him that he only had one bag of O-neg blood.

Told him he wouldn't be able to transfuse anyone else should Bravo Team take any hits once El Lazo's men found them holed up in the church.

But Jason told Trent to transfuse Lazo because he had information as to where Doza is hiding. Without Lazo, they had no way of getting to Doza, which means that Bravo would be back at square one. And Hayes wasn't willing to leave that church empty handed.

When Jason saw Trent go down after the wall next to him exploded, he acted, taking aim at the fighters that trickled into the church. Hayes grabbed his brother by the back of his shirt and vest, pulled him across the sanctuary floor towards anything that resemble cover.

Glass around them shattered, bullets peppered the walls and pews. Bravo One saw men approaching him, fired his weapon before they could make it inside. Behind him he heard Bravo Four still trying to get to cover and when the smallest of lulls came, Jason began to drag Trent towards a back room.

He wants to ask if his brother was hit, if he was okay, but Jason realizes that he is needed back out in the fight and leaves Bravo Four half sprawled in the back room.

Trent pulls himself the rest of the way behind cover, his injured leg kept straight and the other propelling him across the floor. He had just pressed his back against the wall, when Davis' voice comes through comms.

"All stations, be advices, I see two enemy combatants outside the north entrance of the church."

Trent, realizing he is at that location, turns towards the door just as two men appear. He raises his weapon and takes out the first fighter before they could get a shot off. The second, however, was quicker on the trigger and Trent soon felt a burning pain erupt over his left side.

He grits his teeth and fires at the second combatant, aim true as his bullet finds its target center mass. Bravo Four lets out a shaky breath, waits a beat to see if there were any others, even if Davis said there were just the two. Only after making sure that there were no more fighters coming towards him did Bravo Four lower his weapon, letting it fall to his lap.

 _Just breathe_ , he thinks to himself as he began to self-diagnose how bad his injuries were. He could feel the sting on his leg, the growing puddle of blood beneath him and his vision was going in and out of focus. Bringing his hand up to key his comms was hard and he felt as if the humid Mexican air had suddenly turned frigid.

He hardly had the strength to move and lacked the strength to talk to his brothers even if he could press the button for his comms. And he was cold. So cold. _Going into shock... not now… not now…_

It felt like an eternity had passed, between Trent trying to hold on and the gunfire that continued to fill the church, before the bullet finally stopped.

Somehow, the medic's bloody fingers fouund the button for his comms once more, but he couldn't get his voice to work. He couldn't get his mouth to form the words his brain was screaming at him to produce at that moment, was instead given a copper taste in his mouth.

"…caught in the blast. I pulled Bravo Four in this back room for cover." That's Jason. Trent can hear him talking down the hall. He lets out a ragged breath, tries to stay awake. "Davis said there were two combatants heading for the north entrance, but I haven't heard from him since."

Trent could feel his eyes drifting shut when all of the sudden he was being roused from the approaching darkness. Groggy eyes land on the worried face of Jason Hayes, who is now kneeling by his side.

"Nonono, stay awake, Trent. Trent! Hey! Stay awake!" Jason says. "Trent?"

Without being prompted, Brock and Ray give their team leader a hand in moving their brother, so he is laying on floor. Then they look at his wounds.

"He's got shrapnel all along his lower left leg." Mutters Ray as he pulls out a belt and uses it as a tourniquet.

"GSW to his left side, just above his hip. No exit wound..." Brock replies as he assesses his brothers' injuries. He ignores the fact that he is kneeling in the pool of blood, tries to remain focused as he presses a towel to Trent's side and checks for additional injuries. "He's lost a lot of blood." He says, though his eyes add 'I don't know if he's gonna make it back to base.' Those unspoken words were aimed at Jason, who was on Trent's right, trying to keep him awake.

All of the sudden, Hayes regretted ordering Bravo Four to give Lazo their only bag of O-negative blood.

"Eric!" shouts Jason, ignoring the formalities of the field. Blackburn turns the corner, is welcomed with the awful sight of one man down and three others nearly covered in blood and dirt. "Exfil! Now!"

"Make a path!" the commander shouts as Bravo gathers around Trent and carry him to a waiting van.

Clay and Sonny turn their heads at the change in tone of Lt. Commander Blackburn's voice, each wondering what caused it. When they see Jason and Ray carrying Trent, with Brock in the middle holding a soaked towel to the injured SEALs side and Eric following close by with gear, they spring into action.

"What the hell happened?"

Jason and Sonny carefully place Trent into the waiting van.

"Caught shrapnel, GSW to his side."

The others pile into the van and the vehicle lurches forward back to base before the door slams shut.

"There's still too much blood! I need another towel!" shouts Brock as he fights to control the bleeding. It won't stop. Then Reynolds sees the source of the problem and without question, reaches in with his left thumb and index finger, pinches the exposed artery.

The blood slows slightly, but Brock is still shaking his head.

Jason looks at him with questioning eyes, silently asking 'will that hold?'. Brock can't bring himself to reply, instead he turns his attention to the team medic.

Trent was having a hard time keeping track of everything that happened after the blast knocked him off his feet.

He remembers Hayes dragging him to cover… the pain… after that he is moving, without actually moving… the hostiles… No, that doesn't sound right. He can feel pressure on his side, hears voices talking but can't make out what's being said. Everything was fading in and out.

After time ticks by, the voices clear. He, somehow, manages to crack his eyes open. Sees Bravo Five on his left, hands firm against his side. _Ah, there's the cause of the pressure. Good job, Brock._ Trent blinks, hazy eyes shift to his right where he can barely see Jason.

"That's it, Trent. Just hold on a little longer. Keep fighting!" Hayes says. Trent knows he is trying to keep him awake, but it isn't going to work. "Don't close your eyes, Four! Keep them open, dammit! We're almost there!"

Trent coughs, winces, the taste of copper returns, fighting with the pain for control over his fading senses. "N-not… not y-your… f-faul-." He whispers, words trailing off, as his head lulls to the side and darkness takes hold once more.

"Trent? Trent!" Jason squeezes Trent's shoulder tries to wake him up. The medic doesn't respond.

"His breathing is getting worse!" shouts Brock, not taking his hands away from Trent's side.

"How much longer?!" Ray shouts to the driver.

As if on cue, the van slams to a halt with screeching tires. The van door is thrown open and Sonny, Clay and Ray file out of the way so medical personal could get in. Brock fills them in on what he knew as Bravo Four was pulled from the van and transferred to a gurney. Five did not dare remove his hands now, even with the nurses and doctors trying to take over. He stayed with them step for step as they ran back into the building, all shouting medical jargon that went over the heads of the rest of Bravo.

"This is my fault," Jason says mostly to himself, though the others heard him loud and clear. Ray was the first to step into Hayes line of vision, blocking the doorway Trent was just ushered through. "If I hadn't been so damn eager to get Lazo to talk—"

"Don't do that to yourself, Jase. Don't. We got what we needed from Lazo. We got to Trent in time."

"We wouldn't be in this mess if I hadn't ordered him to use our only bag of blood. We could've bought him time" Jason pushes past Ray. It felt as if the blood on his hands was already caked dry. Jason can't even face his team as he says, "If Trent dies—" _it's on me,_ he thinks.

No one spoke after that.

"It'll be awhile before we hear any news." Commander Blackburn says as he walks up on Bravo. "Everyone get cleaned up. We'll debrief later."

* * *

Bravo Team had been back stateside for over a week now, and in those nine days, Jason has struggled to release his pent-up energy. He was still tense. After a couple days off, he and the rest of the team continued to work out, even though Bravo was pulled from rotations as Trent recovered.

They had just gotten back to base from running hills geared up. Everyone else had already cleaned up and gone home for the evening, but Jason couldn't bring himself to do the same. He couldn't sit around the house with Emma and Mikey, doing nothing, so he texted them saying he'd be home late and headed for the gym, hoping to clear his mind.

The hours ticked by and Hayes was able to get a few good reps in before he finally decided to call it quits. Placing the weights back on the racks above him, he sits up from the bench with the intention of grabbing his towel, when he sees an outstretched hand.

"Your sweating bullets, Jase."

"Just putting in the work." Jason grabs the towel from the man, avoiding his gaze, and takes a drink of water. "Shouldn't you be in bed somewhere?

"Hmm." Trent shifts his weight slightly so more of his weight is on the cane, and not his injured leg. "They said I needed some exercise. And you should feel bad that you're making a cripple chase after you."

"I'm not making yo—" Jason cuts himself off. "Ray tell you where to find me?"

"They all did." As his leg and side were still healing, he couldn't stand for very long. Trent takes a seat in a chair opposite of Jason, leaning the cane against the wall. "They've also told me that you blame yourself for what happened in the church."

"Because it is."

"No, it's not, Jason and deep down you know it."

Hayes signs, lowers his head. "If I hadn't ordered you to give Lazo the last of our blood, we would have been able to give you more time to get to base. Brock wouldn't have had to stick his fingers in your side. It was too damn close."

Trent laughs, actually laughs. "You really know how to sell yourself short, boss." At Jason's questioning look and narrow eyes, the medic continues. "You made the call you thought was right, and in the end it worked. We got Doza, not how we wanted, but we got him. Another successful mission."

"Yeah, but at what cost?" Jason says as he motions to the cane.

Trent grabs the item and uses it to get to his feet. He reaches out and clasps his left hand on his leaders' shoulder. "One that wasn't too high. One that any of us would pay again. We'd follow you anywhere, Jase. Even the kid."

"You talked to him?"

"Yeah. He's coming around. I think losing Stella really messed with his head. He'll get square soon enough."

"Yeah, right." Jason wipes his face with the towel, and heads for the showers.

"Hey, Jase?" Trent calls after the other man. Jason turns at the sound of his name, looks at his brother who nearly died because of his actions. "I don't remember much about what happened in the church. But I know I meant what I said. It wasn't your fault."

All of a sudden, the bottled-up energy that Jason had be struggling to release was gone. The stress of the Mexico mission faded away as quickly as Trent uttered those words.

Jason nods, accepting the words as truth. "Night, Trent."

Trent limps towards the door, stops and gives Jason a hug on his way out. "Night, boss."

 **-FIN-**


	12. Paradise Lost Tag

**A/N: Bit of emotional whump this go around. Spoilers if you haven't see 2.17.**

 **Plot:** ** **Drabble thoughts that went through Bravo Team's mind after the two explosions and up to waiting for news on Clay in the hospital.****

 **Paradise Lost Tag**

#

 **Bravo One**

After everything that happened, Jason wasn't going to leave him. No man left behind. Right? He simply jumped into the ambulance, gave his team orders to help with the rest of the casualties, promised to keep them updated, then slammed the door shut and yelled at the driver to go.

He ignored his own wounds, eyes glued to Clay who was strapped to the gurney, bleeding, drifting in and out of consciousness. He tried to offer Spenser comfort, but it was hard to hold on to hope that things would be okay after this. But he had to. For the kid. For his team. His brothers.

 _Better than brothers._

When they arrived at the hospital, and the doctors and nurses swarmed around the kid— _their kid_ —he was pushed to the side as Clay was rolled away, out of reach. Jason didn't want to leave him, but they gave him no choice. No man left behind, yet, there he went. Alone.

So, there he was. Leaning against the dingy blue hospital walls. Arms folded. Face set in a firm look that would deter any sane person away. Waiting.

And as he waited, and waited, and waited, he kept replaying the events over and over and over in his mind. No, not the explosion that cut up his leg and arms. The second one. The one that occurred further in the market. The one that occurred when Spenser was the only team member not in the bar.

He'll never forget the look on Sonny's face, pale in the dim light, as he shouted the kid's name and franticly ran out of the building in search for the youngest member of Bravo. Only when the rest of the team was finished with their own charges, did they race after Sonny, who still shouted Clay's name.

Jason when they came up to his body on the street…

He saw Blackburn run in a few minutes go but hasn't heard a word on Spenser's condition. The feeling of failure trickled in, of not being able to protect his team. Maybe they were too lax. Maybe there did need to be some changes, for the betterment of the team. Maybe-

No.

When Jason saw his brothers walking towards him, each with scrapes, burns or cuts over their dirty bodies, he realized that he did not fail Clay. They did not fail Clay. He's alive because of their quick thinking. And no change would have had an effect on tonight's outcome.

Spenser would be okay.

He had to be.

But the people responsible for this would not.

 **Bravo Two**

Faith.

Likely a small word to someone who doesn't believe in anything higher than themselves. But to Ray, that word was larger than life. Larger than himself. And since Mexico, it's only gotten smaller and smaller. Now, he can't even see it. Doubts he even has any left.

After the explosion knocked him down, the only thing going through his mind was his team. His brothers. He didn't see them at first, and years in service has taught him to prepare for anything. The worse. But that small bit of faith, living somewhere deep within his being, told him that his team was okay.

Then he heard Jason call his name. He saw the rest of the guys. A bit beat up, but alive all the same.

Relief washed over him.

But that faith dwindled after the second explosion.

And he realized Clay was not in the bar.

Ray saw Sonny run out of the rundown building, screaming the kid's name.

The faith that Clay was all right… that never came for Ray.

Not as he followed the others out into chaotic street, pushing pass victim and stepping over or around the dead. It never came when he saw Quinn fall to his knees and begged Spenser to stay awake, to breathe.

And now that they're at the hospital, waiting for news that Clay would be fine and they could see him? Faith still didn't show.

So, as he waits with the team, for the doctors or for Blackburn to tell them that Clay is okay, Ray considers, actually considers, praying. A deep, honest to God, 'I messed up and I'm sorry please just don't take the kid', prayer. But he doesn't know where to start. The words never come. He just stands there, in the middle of the hall, mind blank of any prayers. Of any hope.

There was no faith left after this.

He doubted he'd ever have faith again.

 **Bravo Three**

Sonny would never say the words, never admit it aloud, but he and Clay had become rather close. One could say it began when he was facing death in that torpedo tube, but a seed was planted the day Spenser joined Bravo over a year ago.

He's gotten used to the kid.

He's his brother. There's no changing that.

Nothing could change that. Nothing.

Then the first bomb went off. And Bravo reacted. This is what they were trained to do. Help those who couldn't help themselves. But, if he was being honest, he didn't want Clay to leave that bar. He needed to keep an eye on him. Blasted Dead Man's Hand aside, he needed to be sure that the kid was safe.

Well. As safe as can be.

Sonny saw Clay bring in that woman with the wounds on her legs. And then the two brothers, comforting them, letting them know it would be okay. Still, he tried to stop him. But the kid disappeared back into the chaos, looking for more victims to help. Because that's who he is. That's who they all are.

Sonny swears he stopped breathing when he heard the second explosion. Things got worse when he didn't see Clay in the bar with the rest of the team.

Panic raises in his chest as he runs out of the bar, searching for the kid amongst the screaming crowd.

And he doesn't see him.

Not at first.

But he doesn't stop looking. Doesn't stop hoping.

He screams Clay's name.

Finally sees his prone—no, barely moving—figure off near a curb, he runs over and… Everything that happened after that is a blur. Now in the hospital, he's thinking that to when he nearly died. He thought of how Clay was there for him, making sure he knew that he was alone as the water got higher and his air supply lower.

He only wished he could do the same.

 **Bravo Four**

Trent can't help but look at the blood on his hands.

Some of it is from checking victims, seeing if they were dead or alive. Some is from treating victims, like the elderly man who lost his wife. And some of he was his brother's. That blood is on top, fresher than the rest, sticky as it slowly dries and stains his hands.

But he can't bring himself to wash it off.

He has trained for moments like his. But why he was Bravo Team's medic made no sense. At least, not at first. Jason could ask for any certified medic to have watching his back, treating his brothers, but Jason wanted Trent. Said he trusted him. They all trusted him.

However, in the heat of the moment? All of that was put on the line.

And if he failed?

Would that trust still stand?

Trent didn't have a kit, supplies, gear that would ensure Clay survived, or at least give him a better chance. Instead he was forced to work with things around him, which was all but a charred and broken mess. He managed, got to work, used a broken pool cue and random scraps of fabric instead to secure the wound. Clay's life depended on what he could do.

In the beginning, he was not used to the art of improvising, but as the years of service went by, he got really good at it. Really, really good. Trent felt like he was talking to himself most of the time, but someone—everyone—got him what he needed to make a junctional tourniquet. It would work.

He just hoped it would be enough to get Clay to the hospital.

Would it be enough?

 _Was_ it enough?

Trent sat in the waiting room, his red stained fingers rubbing circles around his aching temple. At least they were dry now. He didn't want to risk missing any news by leaving. None of that stopped his thoughts from going to his brother, wondering if the doctors were actually doing everything, they could to keep him alive.

He keeps telling himself he did all he could.

He tries to believe he did all he could.

But the doubts still creep in as they wait.

 **Bravo Five**

Brock was on auto pilot.

He felt himself get knocked to the ground, and then his training took over without consulting his brain. He helped Mandy to her feet, looked around for his brothers, made sure they were okay, then he was moving to treat the injured.

Somehow, he came up on a victim the same time as Trent and Jason did. He wasted no time in pulling out his phone and turning on the flashlight so the medic could work. When Trent told him to get supplies to inflate the man's lungs, Brock took off for the kitchen, looking for the strongest alcohol, a straw and saran wrap.

He went from victim to victim, help who he could, however he could. And he kept moving, kept pushing through, didn't slow down or stop. His head hurt, and he felt blood running down his neck, but his body and mind were not on the same page. Brock kept going, kept helping victims.

When the second explosion tore through the market, his auto pilot turned up. And when he didn't see Clay, saw Sonny tearing out of the bar screaming the kid's name, did it go into overdrive.

Auto pilot is the only reason Brock was able to get Trent supplies to improvise a junctional. Was the only reason why he grabbed a broken pool cue instead of a shard piece of metal. Was the only reason why he was able grab a couple pieces of cloth to pack Clay's wounds until help came. Was the only was he was able to hold Spenser's head still as his brothers rolled him onto the backboard. And was the only was he was able to correctly secure the kid's head before they loaded him into the ambulance.

Auto pilot and adrenaline.

But now that they are at the hospital?

His mind and body are beginning to get on the same page. They find Jason, but he doesn't have any news for them. Brock sinks to the floor, crosses his arms over his knees, leans his aching head down in a futile attempt to drown out the ache that was beginning to make itself known to him. He hears someone talking close by, probably Trent telling him he needs to get his head looked at. Granted they all should get checked out, but he doesn't move. None of them do.

Not until Blackburn steps through the double doors.

And after the Lt. Commander gives them an update on Spenser…

…and they learn just how bad it really is…

…does Bravo Team feel worse than when the horrible night began.

\- FIN -

 **A/N: This episode wrecked me in many ways and I couldn't stop thinking of the guys as everything went down. Brock was the hardest to write because he seemed so distraught after everything! So I hope I was able to get that, and the rest of Bravo's emotions, across well.**


	13. Team's Best Friend

**This is a few days late, but HAPPY SEAL TEAM RENEWAL! Wheel up to Season 3, baby! *happy dance***

 **This was written for Guest. I don't usually do requests, but this one had to do with two of my favorite things: Brock whump and the guys protecting Cerb. Sorry this took so long, Guest, but I hope you still like it.**

 **"Love it! You are so good. If you do request, I have two. 1) Anything with Brock wump. He's my favorite. 2) Something where another military person doesn't think Cerb is a soilder/deserves the same things as the Gus, and the rest of Bravo team is protective of him and makes that person regret saying those things. If not you obviously know what you are doing and I will read anything you write."**

 ** **Plot: Cerberus is an important member of Bravo Team, no matter what anyone else says. He's proven his worth time and again. Sometimes in the most unassuming of ways.  
****

 **9: Team's Best Friend (One-Shot)**

Brock sat at an outside table at a local diner. He sipped on a glass of water, flicked through messages on his phone. Cerberus lay at his feet, watching people as they passed by in a wiz. It was a beautiful day, and it was going to get better, once 0900 rolled around.

"Ever the early bird, you are." A voice says coming up behind him.

Brock sends a mock scowl at Cerb, who simply stood and walked over to the woman with a wagging tail. "You were supposed to let me know when she got here, bubba."

"I think Cerb loves me too much to ruin the joy I have in scaring you."

Brock huffs slightly. "You didn't scare me. And that's only because you give him more treats than I do."

The woman grins innocently, points to herself. "I would never risk sending his elite training down the drain. At least, not every time." she chuckles as she gives Brock a hug. "Good to see you."

"You too, Mac. Been a long time." Brock says to his sister. "Things still good at work?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Can't complain."

"How's that rookie treating you guys? You run him off yet?" Mac asks as she looks over the menu, even though she knows what she wants.

"Nah, Clay's all good. Fits right in." Brock nods to Cerb, who is snuggled up against Mac's leg. "Passed the traitor's test so he must be a keeper."

"Ignore him, Cerberus. We all know which sibling you love most."

Mackenzie and Brock continued to chat, catching up since it had been a while since they last got together. Their food had just arrived when the latter's phone began to chime. He glances at the screen, then gives Mac and apologetic look. "I'm-"

"Don't say it." Mac, used to her brother being called away at the worse of times, sips her drink. "Go save the world."

Brock takes out his wallet and places some money down before Mac can object. "You're buying the next one." He says as he leans down and kisses the top of her head.

"I'll grill some steaks."

Brock makes a funny face as he and Cerb get into his truck. Mac watches them leave for base, then turns to her meal and eats in silence.

#

If Cerberus could talk, he'd probably voice his displeasure for working with other units. Bravo was the best and he knew them just as well as they knew him. But when another team is needed for a mission, calls are questioned more often than not, especially when his role is key to mission success.

This mission was no different.

"Yo, Boss, is it true?" Brock asks as he stalks into the briefing room, Cerberus matching his long strides. Everyone in the room thought the sight was odd, considering their canine teammate was never in on briefings. "Tell me it isn't."

Spenser looks up, wondering what has Brock's emotions all knotted up. "Is what true?"

"That we're partnering with another team." Ray says as he leans on the table.

"Why's that—"

Sonny chimes in, "Don't say it, Blondie!"

"—so bad?"

"Ah, shit." Mutters Trent as he shakes his head.

"It's bad, Clay, because the team we're partnered with wanted Cerb put down after the last mission we worked together." Jason tells the youngest member as he leans against a counter.

Clay is taken aback, shocked. "What?! Brock, that true?" Clay turns to the canine handler, wanting to know more. Something tells him he should leave the matter alone for the time being, but he can't help his multiplying questions.

The level of anger pouring off of Bravo Five was rather high. And considering the fact Reynolds is one of the more level headed members of Bravo, that is really saying something. Still, Brock doesn't say a word as he takes a seat and waits for everyone else to arrive. Cerberus lays down by his feet.

When Lt. Commander Blackburn walks in, he can tell the mood in the room is rather tense. "Hmm, I guess you've heard already. Don't know how…" Eric looks around the room at the mixed looks Bravo team is giving him. Including Cerberus. "I was hoping to tell you in person, Brock. I'm sorry."

"Lt. Commander Blackburn." Bravo Team turns towards the door as a new presence enters, followed by five other men. "Had I known this mission was with Bravo, I would not have been so quick to toss Delta Team's name in the hat for consideration." The comment is meant to sound like a joke, but it comes off as anything but.

"Master Chief Horn. Pleasure as always."

"But I am sure we can accomplish this mission without the aid of Bravo. Or their… other member."

Eric finds himself standing a little bit straighter as he talks to Delta Teams leader. And he doesn't miss the way Ray lays a comforting hand on Brock's shoulder. "I do not doubt it, Master Chief. But our intel suggests the compound where your objective is located in a rather tricky area. An area that is believed to be grounds for repurposed explosives, namely landmines."

"So, we bring our respective EODs. Problem solved."

"Master Chief Horn, Mandy Ellis, CIA." Says Mandy, stepping in before things get even more tense. "Bravo and Delta are being brought in to recover formulas for deadly drugs from those grounds, but the location is too big for one team to search in our limited window of operation. Twelve men and a dog will make the search go by quicker."

Horn narrows his eyes but doesn't add anything else.

"Any hostiles in the area?" one of Horn's men asks from the back of the room.

"Intel suggests there is a very small local militia, but few people take them seriously. Shouldn't be a problem should you run into any of their three members." Blackburn says.

"This area here, is where we suspect the main dumping area for the landmines to be. Our images aren't great because locals planted trees a few years back that have obstructed our view of the entire property."

"So, we're looking at pictures that are… how old?" Hayes doesn't want to know the answer to that question, not really, but the information is needed.

"Six."

"Six years? Mandy, you expect us to walk into a suspected drug compound that is supposedly surrounded by repurposed landmines after looking at pics that are six years old?" Jason can't believe what he is hearing. Doesn't like what he is hearing. Not one bit. "Unbelievable."

"Why are we just no acting on this intel?" Clay asks.

"This woman, Isabelle Harclave, was under investigation from the CDC seven years ago because she was suspected of copying formulas for some of the deadliest pathogens they carry. She disappeared before the FBI was able to arrest her after they found out she was selling the information she collected on the black market. We believe she payed locals to plant those trees to hide what she's really doing there."

Trent speaks up, saying, "That's some level of commitment. Waiting so long, working in the dark."

Mandy flips through various pictures on the screen, finally stopping on an image of a two-story building. "This is an abandoned building on the grounds."

"Then why is the power bill through the roof? Especially in that region, so off grid, cut off from the rest of the city?" Brock asks, looking up from a few papers in his hand.

"Because Harclave is using it as a base for her meets. Buyers convene there, she sells the formulas, repeats. But we believe she is also using the basement area to power something heavy duty, we just don't know what."

Ray leans back in his chair, eyes Ellis. "Is she manufacturing her own drugs there? Mass producing?"

"The locals talk, say an American lives in the woods. But we can't confirm anything other than talk. That's what we need you to find out."

"So, our job is to secure the formulas, see if we can figure out where Harclave is. And if there are pathogens on site?"

"Regardless if you locate any pathogens or not, you are to eliminate the target building and any persons you may find inside. The area is 30 miles from any city or village, so brass has given us the all clear to blow the site sky high once we're through and in the clear."

"Oh, sweet, sweet music to my ears." Sonny beams like a kid on Christmas. "I'ma need to pack all the slaps I can carry."

"Curve your excitement, Sonny. We've gotta be mindful of those landmines."

"Supposed landmines, kid. We don't know yet."

"Yeah. We don't." Jason stands and walks over to Cerberus, who stands as well when he sees Jason walk over. "But Cerb here will let us know. Won't you, boy?"

No one missed the way Jason looked at Horn as he spoke those words.

#

 _"One to Five. How we doin'?"_

"Nearly finished. Half a klick from the target building." Comes Brock's reply.

 _"Copy that. Radio once you've made contact."_

"Copy."

Once in country, Jason wasted no time in putting Reynolds and Cerberus to work. With Spenser and Quinn watching their backs, Cerberus would point out any repurposed explosives and Brock would mark the area with special paint that the teams could see with their NVGs. The moon was high in the clear sky, and the trees planted gave them plenty of cover.

However, that also meant any hostiles in the area also had cover.

Still, they pressed forward, marking the path for their brothers.

"Hey, Brock?"

"Shh." Brock marks another explosive Cerb finds.

Clay waits, looks around, doesn't see anything thing. He tries again. "Is it true Delta team wanted Cerb put down?"

Brock stops all of the sudden, and Clay can't tell if it was because of his question or if Cerberus found something. After a few seconds of silences, Five says, "Yeah."

Sensing Reynolds didn't want to relieve the moment Delta Team pressed all the wrong buttons, Sonny chimes in. "They just didn't take kindly to getting upstaged by Cerberus is all. Damaged pride is what it was."

Clay believe that but remained silent, not wanting to add anything. Maybe he would be able to get some answers out of Blackburn. If only he could speak dog…

"Five to One, we've reached the target building. The path is marked, you're all clear to move."

 _"Copy that. Moving towards your location."_

A few minutes later, Bravo and Delta teams were spread throughout the building, searching for intel, any formulas and or pathogens. Three members of Delta Team took the second floor, while Bravo worked on the first. Ray was on watch with the other three members of Charlie around the perimeter of the building.

Brock and Cerberus were clearing a room on the floor level, when something catches the canine members attention. His low whine draws Five's gaze to a door at the end of a short hall.

"Bravo Five to Bravo One, somethings got Cerb's attention. Looks like a door, different than the others in this building, newer."

 _"At your current location?"_

"Affirmative. Recent construction, maybe. Too dark to tell for certain, but it's appears to be newer than the rest."

 _"Copy that. Take Six, check it out."_

Clay jogs over to join Brock after handing his area off to Trent. Cerberus gently tugs at Brock's belt, urging the SEALs to go faster, silently telling them there was something important behind the odd door.

With the dog leading the way, Bravos Five and Six open the door, and step into darkness, using their NVGs to see where they were going. They stepped into a tile hall, which was unlike the wooden walls of the structure they left behind. The ceiling held LED lightening and small vents every few feet. The ground sloped down. The deeper they went, the harder Cerberus pulled. Brock knew what this meant, so he readied himself for anything. Clay did the same.

After a few minutes of walking down the long, slanted hall, and not seeing a single door or window, they came upon what could only be described as Frankenstein's lab.

Glass jars of odd colored liquid lined shelves from the floor to the ceiling. Tables with various items, stretchers, and other medical equipment are strewn about. And a desk with a laptop.

Clay lets out a low whistle. "Jackpot."

"You check the desk and grab the computer. Cerberus and I will see if there's anything else of importance."

"Yeah, copy that." Spenser clears his side of the room and chuckles to himself. "Sonny's gonna be pissed about this."

"Let's just get what we need and set the charges. I don't like how Cerb's acting around all this stuff." Brock says as he looks from a bottle of something greenish-brown and back to a stack of files.

All of a sudden, Cerberus starts barking. Brock and Clay turn towards the sound, weapons raised, and see two figures ducking back into a crack in the wall that was defiantly not there when they arrived.

Both SEALs react, taking aim at the tangos, but the men are quick. They know the room well, even in the dark, and duck behind items that effectively stop the bullets meant for them.

Cerberus turns to his left, roughly pulling Brock off balance, just as a tango jumps up and throws something across the room, which narrowly misses Five's head. Something shatters, and flames erupts soon after.

Across the room, Clay grits his teeth as he fights to hold off the person pressing him against the desk. Having seen this, Brock quickly reaches down and unclips Cerberus from his waist before engaging with the other tango. The Hair Missile shoots off and grabs a hold of the combatant that had Clay pinned against the desk, sinking his teeth into the enemy's arm. Spenser recovers, reaches for his sidearm, and when Cerberus is in the clear, fires four shots in quick succession. The tango quickly lay in a growing pool of blood, dead.

"Five?" shouts Clay as he struggles to his feet. He hears something else shatter. The smell of fire and chemicals burning was growing stronger with each passing second. He could see Brock fighting with the other tango, each alternating blows and jabs, as the flames grew around them. "Five!"

The tango slams Brock back into a broken shelf, again and again and again. They fall to the floor. Bottles break, chemicals spill out, fueling the already raging fire. Suddenly, Cerberus appears out of the darkness and uses all of his strength to pull the tango off his human.

There's a pained yelp.

The smoke gets thicker.

Cerberus is no longer in sight.

Clay raises his weapon…

…Brock kicks the tango back…

…Clay aims and fires.

The tango falls to the ground. Dead.

"Five, you good? Brock? Brock, talk to me!" Clay runs over and none too gently hauls Reynolds to his feet. He coughs as the rooms continues to fill with smoke. "Brock!?"

"Where's Cerberus?!" yells Brock as he looks around the room, coughing. "Cerberus? Cerb?!"

Both men turn at the sound of a low, half bark, half whimper. Brock slings his weapon across his shoulder and reaches down, feeling his way through the darkness and the smoke. Seconds dragged by before his hands found fur. Five quickly, but carefully, pulls Cerberus into his arms, not sure where he is injured and not wanting to make him run.

Clay secures his bag back on his shoulders after placing the laptop inside and takes point, leading his two teammates back out the sloped tile tunnel as the flames continued to grow and roar behind them.

No sooner than they had reached the main floor did the room explode. The building shook as flames poured out of the hall just as Clay and Brock and Cerberus hit the ground. Jason is first by their side, followed by Sonny and Trent.

"What the—"

"Long… story." Mutters Clay as Sonny helps him to his feet. "We found… we located Harclave's laptop. Got contacted down there. Cerb took a hit."

Trent is quickly at the dog's side, looking him over with Brock still holding tight. "You good?" he asks Brock and Clay as he gives Cerberus a once over.

All Five and Six can manage through fits of coughing are a slight nod and a thumbs up.

"Bravo One to all stations. Objective complete. Set your timers and let's get the hell out of here."

#

"Any word on Cerberus?"

Brock absentmindedly rubs the white bandage around his left forearm. At the sound of Clay walking into the cage room, he stops, grabs a hat and locks up. "He's got some bruises and singed fur. Breathed in as much smoke as we did, but nothing serious. You?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Breathing treatment did wonders." Clay nods. They haven't been back in the states for 24 hours yet and he can still taste the rancid smoke from that room. "What about you? You good?"

"I'm fine."

"Those seventeen stitches in your arm and eight in your neck tell me otherwise. What's really on your mind?"

 _Dammit, the kid is observant. And nosey._ Brock rubs his bearded face. He'd let it get a little thicker these last few days. Needed to shave soon. "I've lost brothers. We all know it's a part of the job, try to prepare for it best we can, deal with it when it happens, but… I don't know what I'd do if I lost Cerb. Just thinking I'd lost him…"

Spenser knows how Reynolds feels. "But you didn't. And he's still here."

"Yeah. This time." Brock rubs his tense neck and shoulder, right where another bandage covers his other op injury. He nods at Clay, pulls on his hat. "I'll see you in the briefing room."

Brock heads for the kennels to pick up Cerberus, who spent most of the morning with the vet. When the dog saw his human, his low tail quickly shot up as he stood.

"Hey, buddy!" greets Five as he enters the room. "Good to go, doc?"

"Yes. His breathing is better, but if you think it sounds worse, bring him back and we'll give him another treatment."

"Will do. Alright, bubba, let's go debrief." Brock unlocked the cage and goes to clip the leash to Cerb's collar when the canine darts out and tackles Bravo Five. "Hey, I'm glad to see you, too!"

Cerberus runs circles around Brock's legs, not stopping long enough to be clipped to the leash. When Brock reaches down, Cerb spins around, mouth open and nips Brock's bandaged arm.

Brock is startled, recovers quickly and gives Cerberus a command. Cerb stops and lays down, allowing himself to be clipped to the leash.

"Are you okay? Did he draw blood?" the vet quickly asks, having seen what happened.

"No, I'm fine. It wasn't hard enough to do any damage." Brock looks from the vet to his bandaged arm to Cerberus. "He's just really excited."

The vet nods in agreement, knowing how animals react to being away from their handlers for any period of time.

#

Most everyone was already in the briefing room when Brock and Cerberus arrived. Master Chief Horn scowled at Cerb as they passed but didn't say a word. Jason, from across the room, saw this and turned his attention to Bravo Five who seemed to be keeping his cool so far. He hopes they keep it that way through the debrief.

"Alright, everyone's here, let's get this going." Says Lt. Commander Blackburn.

Not even two hours passed before things got heated.

"This was a waste of Delta Team Blackburn and you know it. My guys are equipped to do more than stand watch and look through empty rooms for supposed pathogen formulas." Says Master Chief Horn with growing rage.

"Your displeasure is noted, Master Chief Horn, but as we said before—"

"We know what you said. What I don't know is why my men were stuck looking through rooms that were literally spotless while Bravo did all of the heavy lifting!"

"My room had some leaves." Says Sonny with a straight face.

"Mine too. And a few specks of dirt to boot." Adds Trent. "Pretty sure they came off of boots."

"And why did the mutt get to search Harclave's office? Huh? What good could it do down there?" Horn presses. "It's useless and has no reason to be part of any operation, much less in the Navy. I don't trust that thing being around my men, especially on missions!"

Brock mutters, shakes his pained head that's between his hands. "And there it is."

"Delta could've found that hall. Easily."

"Yeah, well you didn't. Cerberus did. And because of him we know what formulas Harclave copied and who she sold those copies to." Snaps Brock as he turns towards Horn. Cerberus nudges Reynolds arm again, then puts a paw on his leg. The SEAL doesn't seem to notice. "If you guys are lucky, maybe Delta will be sent on an op to capture one of those buyers and prevent an epidemic! But I wouldn't count on it so don't hold your breath."

"Brock! That's enough!" says Hayes as he crosses the room. "Look, everything that happened, happened, all right? Mission success, that's all that matters. Not you or Delta being upstaged by a dog. Again. So, if you've got a problem with Cerberus, then you've got a problem with me. With all of us. And you don't want that, do you, Master Chief Horn?"

The rest of Bravo watch in silence as their leader stood up for their teammates, but all were ready to come to their aid if the need arose. It wouldn't be the first-time punches have been thrown in the briefing room, and likely wouldn't be the last.

While this was going on, Cerberus continues to nudge Brock. First on his arm, then he jumps up and puts both front paws on Brock's chest. Before Brock and tell him to get off, Cerberus nips at the exposed bandage on his shoulder and neck.

"See? That's my point! Bravo Five can't even control his mutt!" shouts Horn as he backs away from the table. "This will happen on a mission! Blackburn, that mutt needs to be put d—"

Brock throws the first punch.

Trent and Ray are quick to hold Brock back, while Clay jumps up and stands between him and the stunned Master Chief Horn. Members of Charlie advance, coming to their own leader's aid and Jason and Sonny stop them from getting too close.

Blackburn is quick to step in, though not without slight hesitation. "ENOUGH!"

Everyone stops what they were doing, and the room lapses into silence.

Until Trent's worried voice breaks it.

"Brock? Brock, hey, what's wrong? Brock!"

Jason pushes his way through the wall of SEALs. When he does, he sees Reynolds leaning heavily on the table, one hand pulling at the neck of his shirt as if the fabric were too tight.

Brock looks at Trent, then to Cerb, then coughs into his hand. There's blood. It speckles the table and carpet and his coughing intensifies, right before his legs give out. Bravo Five collapses into Trent's arms, who manages to stop his descent before his brother actually slammed into the ground.

Ray is there to help lower this brother to the ground. His coughing doesn't relent. Cerb continues to nudge Brock's bandaged wounds, wanting his human to know that he's still there. Sonny calls the dog off, wanting to give the team medic room to work, but the furry member ignores the commands and lays down by his human's side instead.

"Trent, talk to me. Trent?"

"I don't know, Jase. He was all wired, then he started coughing and just went slack." Trent expertly runs his hands over his brother's body out of habit, though he knows the base doctors gave him the all clear. "There aren't any missed injuries. I don't know what's—" Trent stops short, finally noticing Cerberus for the first time. He thinks back to the mission, how he cleaned out small shards of glass from Brock's wounds as they flew back. He recalled Clay telling them about the large amount of chemicals in Harclave's office. And that Brock was slammed into those very shelves repeatedly. "Ohhh… shitshitshitshitshit."

"Trent!"

"Blackburn! Get Mandy on the phone and have her bring those formulas back. And I need those doctors that treated Brock in here, now!" Four says as he turns his attention back to Five, who is no longer coughing. And barely breathing. "Shit, he's burning up…"

For as long as Eric has worked with Bravo Team, he has learned not to question the many things they do. Near the top of that list is Trent when there is a medical situation regarding the team. Blackburn tells Delta Team to leave and he exits the room to get a phone and message to their CIA agent.

Hayes gets down on one knee, looks at the medic. "Trent, talk to us. What's going on? What're you thinking?"

Bravo Four places two fingers on Five's neck, waits a beat before saying, "I think Cerberus is trying to tell us something."

Ray looks over to his brother, not knowing what Trent was getting at. "Which is?"

"Cerberus had a stint with narcotics, right? And he kept nudging and nipping at Brock's bandages. I think… I think Brock's been poisoned by whatever was in those bottles in Harclave's office."

"Aw, shit."

"You can't be serious!"

"Can Cerb even do that? Smell drugs in a human body?"

Trent spares a glance at his brothers, then looks at the canine in question who has rested his head next to Brock's. "There are stories and studies about dogs detecting cancer before an individual exhibits any symptoms. Why should this be any different?"

A team of doctors rush into the room, led by Blackburn, with a gurney. Bravo Team lifts Brock onto the gurney and the doctors quickly wheel him back to the medical wing with Trent in tow. Cerberus tried to follow, but Clay had a tight hold of the leash.

"I need those formulas, Eric!" Four yells over his shoulder.

"Mandy's on her way!"

"What… what the hell just happened?" Sonny questions after a second of trying to gather his racing thoughts. "I mean—"

"Don't know." Replies Jason. He turns to Eric, who just shakes his head.

"Consider this the end of our debrief. Let me know when you hear something about Reynolds."

That was all the remaining members of Bravo needed to hear as they took their leave and headed for the medical wing with Cerberus leading the way, his leash still held by Clay, as he knew his human needed all of them.

#

When Mandy Ellis jogs to a halt, she it more disheveled than what the team usually sees. Her hair is windblown, and her badge is barely clipped to her clothes. But she is there, formulas in hand.

"You got 'em?" asks Blackburn upon seeing the CIA agent walk over.

Mandy nods, trying to catch her breath as she hands them over. "Yeah, the analysts hadn't even started going over them when you called." This is when she notices there are only four members of Bravo standing in the hall. "What happened? Where's Trent? Brock?"

Blackburn waves a woman in scrubs over, who takes the USB drive from Eric and disappears behind a set of doors down the hall. "Brock may have been infected on the op. Trent and the docs need the formulas to see if that's the case. Try to find out what Harclave had in that shop."

"Infected? Wha—the op barely even 24 hours ago. Why didn't the doctors notice anything when they checked him out the first time?"

"I don't know, Mandy." Eric says. He looks over the team. "Look. I know we all want answers, but we're no good to anyone just standing here, taking up this entire hall. The flight was long, go get some rest, eat something and come back in a few hours."

Everyone quickly began to protest that suggestion—or order—realizing that Brock may not have hours, when the double doors swing open once more, this time with Trent walking out. His hair was sticking in different directions, as if he ran his hands through it numerous times, and he no longer wore his uniform. Instead, he had on a simple red tee and a pair of jeans someone must have given him. Trent looked worn, more warn than when he took their brother to the medical wing, how long ago? Minutes? Hours?

"Trent? What happened?

"What took so long? How is he?"

"I, uh, had to get checked out. The doctors want to be cautious."

Cautious? That's not a good sign, and the guys knew this.

"So… how's Brock? He okay?" Jason speaks for the team. They all need to know how Five is doing. Cerberus stands amongst the men, waiting as well, his tail hanging low.

"We don't know."

"What do you mean you 'don't know'?"

"I mean we don't know! They aren't actually sure how long whatever it is has been in his system, what kind of damage it may have already caused. Or why it took so long to…" Trent takes a moment to gather his wits, can feel the many eyes on him as they wait for him to go on. "His breathing is getting worse. They'll intubate him soon if he doesn't show any signs of improvement."

That statement nearly sucked the air out of the hall.

"But he's… he'll be fine, right? I brought the formulas and the doctors are looking through them and—"

Trent can't bring himself to get anyone's hopes up.

"I have a friend at the CDC. I'll give her a call, see if she can do anything." Says Blackburn. "In the meantime, you all get some rest. Two solid hours of rest. Brock will need all of us and we're no good to him if we've worn ourselves thin."

No one moves but Jason. "You heard the man. Let's go."

#

As soon as two hours had passed, Bravo Team, sans Trent, headed back to the medical wing. If you asked them if they were refreshed after eating something or laying down, they all would say they did.

But that was a flat lie.

Jason couldn't sit in one chair for long. Ray was stuck in a hunched position in a chair, either praying or sleeping, no one could tell. Sonny paced around the room, his cowboy boots echoing throughout. And Clay was sitting on the floor, opposite of the door that separated them from their brother. Trent was in with Brock, staying out of the way when he couldn't do anything and helping where he could.

Thankfully it didn't take long for Bravo Four to step into the waiting room.

Everyone stood, waited for their team medic to say something.

Trent took a breath, then began. "It's not good. They won't tell me directly, but I heard one of the doctors say it looks like a mutated strain of MERS."

Someone gasps.

"His fever is through the roof and his lungs are working overdrive. They had to intubate him. But…" Trent trails off, tears welling in his eyes.

"But what?" someone asks.

"But… not before he asked me to contact Mac. He wants her here. Just in case…"

Clay looks around at the others and asks, "Who's Mac?"

"Brock's sister." Ray replies as he hangs his head. It had to be bad if Brock had, somehow, asked them to get Mac. "Damn."

The room is silent for some time, before Clay speaks up. "Brock… has a sister?"

"Yeah, they kinda grew apart after he enlisted since it was hard for them to keep in touch. They're really close now." Jason says. "Man, I haven't seen her in years."

Trent nods, composing himself as he rubs his face. "Brock is out of it, but he knows it's bad. I, uh, need to call her. Get her down here."

Jason steps forward. "Want me to call her?"

"No, I can do it, Boss. It'll be good to hear her voice."

Jason nods, steps to the side as Trent walks past to make the hard call to a woman they've all come to care about.

#

In the time that passed since Trent updated them on Brock's condition, things slowly got worse for the SEAL.

Blackburn was able to get a hold of his friend at the CDC, but she wasn't able to make the flight to base. Via a video call, she worked with the base doctors, trying to find solutions that worked best to help Bravo Five's struggling lungs as there is no cure for MERS. No one knew how much time passed before Trent walked in with a woman on his heels. She quickly spares a look at Bravo Team, then steps behind the double doors alone.

"How'd she take it?"

"I'm not really sure." Trent says walking over to the group. "She's probably spent years expecting him to meet his end by a bullet or something overseas. Not this."

"I don't think there's any way to prepare for this."

Another hour passed before Brock's sister was none to gently pushed out of the room and more doctors swarmed in. She steps over to the group, removes the face mask and looks at the men with tears in her eyes. With a shaky breath, she opens her mouth, but can't bring herself to say anything. Jason pulls her close, whispering comforting words in her ear as she cries.

Trent exits the room a few minutes later.

"It's not MERS." Before tension in the room lifts, Trent continues. "Blackburn's friend at the CDC said it's an extremely aggressive form of a cold. It is a slow acting mutation, but due to Brock's… heated exchange, that may have been a factor in it progressing quicker. He's developed bacterial pneumonia. His lungs are really struggling but they've started him on an intense round of antibiotics."

Jason takes a deep breath. "Now what?"

Trent looks at his brothers, then to Mackenzie. "Now we wait."

#

Mackenzie Reynolds can't help but pace up and down the long hall. Granted, that's about as far as she is allowed to go by herself. Not that she wanted to go anywhere else. Not when her brother's fate teetered on the edge of how well he responded to the antibiotics. She was so preoccupied with putting one foot in front of the other and not falling, she didn't realize Clay standing a few feet away until she nearly ran into him.

"You okay?" he asks, though her body language told him enough. "Sorry. I didn't mean to sound like-"

"No, it's okay. I'm fine. I'm just not really a patient person in times like these." Mac stops and leans against the wall. "Your Bravo's kid, right?"

Clay chuckles but doesn't correct her. "Yeah, Clay. Sorry we got to meet like this."

Mackenzie sighs, looks around. "Where's Cerb?"

"Had to take him back to the kennels. He was pretty restless not being able to see Brock."

"Yeah. He gets that way. Very protective of Brock. Another reason why they get along so well."

Clay and Mac continue to talk, only stopping briefly to eat a sandwich someone brought. Mac tries to nap in the chairs, but she'd can't bring herself to drift off. She doesn't want to go to sleep, knowing she still has a brother, only to wake up and realize that he was gone. At some point Jason came to sit with her. No words were spoken but having him there meant a great deal to her. Together, with the rest if Bravo, they waited.

#

It has been nearly a week since Mackenzie got the call. Five days since she saw men she hadn't seen in years. Five days she had started preparing ways to say goodbye to her best friend.

Jason offered to get her a hotel so she could get some proper sleep. Ray mentioned how Naima would love to catch up and offered her the guest room at his house. But Mac couldn't bring herself to leave the base. Not without knowing. Bravo Team rotated in and out, and on the second night she noticed they were all sporting bruised knuckles or black eyes. It didn't take a genius to figure out what happened, and when their commander saw them on the morning of the third day, he could only shake his head.

Mac was folded up into a chair on the morning of the fifth day when she saw the doctor approach. She stands as quickly as she can, ignoring the feeling of blood rushing back through her numb limbs. She purses her lips, holds her breath, prepared to take whatever news the doctor has with a look that says, 'give it to me straight'.

"It took a long time, but Petty Officer Reynolds is now responding well to the antibiotic treatments." There is a collective sigh of relief amongst those in the room. Trent reaches out and hugs Mac, out of joy and to make sure she didn't fall over due to happiness. "His lungs are still weak, but strong enough to where we were able to take him off the ventilator. His is still on oxygen, but his vitals are strong. I don't see why he won't make a full recovery, given time."

"Can we see him?"

The doctor nods. "One or two at a time. Someone will come get you after he is settled into his room."

Once Brock was placed into a room, the guys were allowed to see him, with Mac's encouragement to go first. She knows how much they care for each other. And just as she and Brock are blood, Bravo Team also held a special bond that couldn't be overlooked or ignored. The guys promised to be quick and not tire him down too much, and then they were gone two at a time, leaving Mac to wait in the hall until they were done.

Jason and Clay are the last members to check in. The latter hugs the wall while Hayes strolls over to the bed. Brock looks at the men, manages a smile and a small wave as he croaks, "Hey guys."

"How're you feeling?"

Brock blinks a few times, gives the same answer he gave the others. "Not the best. Better than I was. But I'll be okay."

"You gave us a scare, man." Jason continues. "I mean, we didn't know what to think. Then the docs were thinking MERS and-"

Bravo Five coughs and groans, "But it wasn't. I just nearly bit it with the worse cold known to mankind. Probably not going to live this one down." All jokes aside, it was good that Reynolds was talking. But the only person who hadn't said a word caught the bedridden SEALs attention. "Clay?"

Spenser looks over at the sound of his name. "Yeah?"

"It's okay." There is no need to add what he was referring to.

"No, it's not." Clay says quickly. "I should've got to you sooner. There was no way of knowing what was in those bottles, and you were all cut up and-"

"I'm okay. It's okay." Brock pauses. "You know, Cerb is gonna need someone to train with until I can get out of here. Think you guys can handle that?"

Jason, who had walked over to the door, smirks from across the room. "I don't know. It might be hard to get him away from the other Reynolds."

Just then Mac walked in with Cerberus in tow. Brock's face lit up at the sight of his canine partner and sister. "How'd you get him in here?" he asks, knowing how the medical staff feels about canines in the ward.

Mac smiles innocently. "I asked politely."

Brock raises a questioning brow. "Mac?"

"Okay, the guys helped me, but still. Everyone knows how important Cerb is to you, to this team." She leads Cerb over to the bed so Brock could reach him. The two were equally happy to finally see the other. "Plus, he basically saved your life, so... I think that was an automatic in."

"You did, buddy? Aww, you're the best! Yes you are!"

Mac sits on the edge of the bed, looks at her brother. "So… is my cooking really that bad?"

-FIN-


	14. No Rest for the Weary

**AN: A new one-shot for you all because the idea wouldn't leave me alone. Mild-ish Clay whump, Jason and Clay bonding moments, and sick Bravo members. Enjoy! :)**

No Rest for the Weary - SEAL Team

Plot: Bravo is on an extended stay in the States, but it turns out to be anything but restful.

Finally. After months of running around the world, chasing down every scum and lowlife Mandy could find, Bravo Team was granted a small break. While that rest was purely due to Ray catching the flu from his children, and then subsequently passing it to Sonny, the guys were grateful for the pause in their routine nonetheless.

Save for the two miserable members suffering from constant chills and endless retching.

Clay decided he would take this extended leave to wash his car and go for a long drive around the city, see some of the sights he never gets to enjoy in person. After that, he'd swing by Sonny's place, see if the big Texan needed anything. His home was being used as "base" because Naima didn't want her freshly disinfected house re-infected with influenza.

The Virginia air was pleasant this time of year. Not too hot, not too cold. Clay wore a lightweight jacket, but found he had the sleeves rolled up most of the time. He drove with the windows down, cranked his country tunes up. He thought about Stella, how he should surprise her with something, just because he wanted to. As he drove down the roadways, he mused over what he could get her while also thinking about what his ill teammates needed.

Spenser pulls over, takes a few moments to text Jason and asks what he should pick up. _Gatorade_ was the only thing Jason sent. A few seconds passed before Hayes added _Lysol_ and _face masks_ to the rather short list. Clay chuckles-makes note to not get the white sports drink because those are gross-and tucks his phone into his cup holder as he continues his drive, wondering if that list was going to grow between now and the time he actually makes it to the store.

By the time evening starts to roll in, Clay decides he should head home. He was just outside the city limits when his gaslight flicked on, alerting him of the car's need. He could put it off, gas up tomorrow sometime after his workout with Brock and Cerberus, but he already knows he wouldn't be up for anything but an ice bath after running hills with Bravo's canine teammate.

Spenser comes up on a corner Mom and Pop gas station just as the setting sun reflects off of its broken sign. The pumps are empty, and it appears the only person in the store at the time is a clerk, who is preoccupied with his phone to notice Clay at the moment. The SEAL chuckles to himself at the sight, wondering if he would have turned out that way had he not decided to join the Navy.

Clay waits for his car to fill up. He debates over getting Stella her favorite take-out for a late dinner. Maybe breakfast at the new cafe would be better? Nah. He'd surprise her with a cup of coffee in the morning, sometime after checking in on Ray and Sonny.

The pump had just clicked off when the temperature seemingly dropped twenty degrees. This change on the outside also alerted Clay of the change inside the store. He slowly looks up, sees the clerk is no longer hunched over the counter and is instead backed up against the wall of lottery tickets with raised hands. Across from the shaking millennial is a hooded figure, with one arm outstretched in a threatening manner. Clay can't see a weapon, but everything tells him to assume the worse.

Spenser takes a step from around his car but stops short. He's home, not a warzone. He can't go into the gas store guns blazing, even if he were carrying. Which he is not.

He should call the police and let them handle the situation.

Clay slowly reaches into his car, where his phone still rests in the cupholder. He had just gotten it in his hands, had pushed 9 and 1 but a yell from inside the store draws his attention from pressing the final number.

The hooded figure is waving the assumed weapon towards the clerk, but the kid is too scared to move. The hooded figure knocks something over and Clay decides he needs to act so no one gets hurt.

So, what's the plan?

 _I'll just wing it._

Clay tosses his jacket in the cab of his car. He keeps his phone out, looks down at the screen and does his best to act like he hasn't seen or heard anything. He gets to the door, walks inside, starts talking.

"Hey, my girlfriend got me hooked on those round candies with the nuts in the middle." He says not looking up from his screen. "Y'all have any of those or-" now he looks up, takes stock of the situation.

The hooded person is maybe just a year or two younger than Clay (still a kid, especially if you consider their career path choices). In their hand is a weapon, namely a gun that looks older than Clay. And that gun is now pointed at the SEALs chest.

"Whoa, whoa there." Says Clay as he puts his hands up. "Easy, just relax."

"Shut up! Just shut up and don't move!" the man yells as he waves the gun.

"Okay, okay, I can do that. You think you could let my pal there go? C'mon, man, he hasn't-"

"No! No! He's staying right there!" the gunman turns the weapon onto the clerk. "Open the drawer! Now! Do it now!"

The clerk still hasn't moved, stammers over words and somehow manages to say, "Okay, o-okay-"

"Then open the damn drawer!"

Clay takes in how the man is always looking over his shoulder, probably anticipating someone else walking in or his window of opportunity to escape.

"This isn't worth it, man." Clay starts, hoping to talk the person down before things got worse. "You can still walk away from this. It isn't too late. Just drop the weapon and go."

"Shut up, man! Move faster!"

"No one's been hurt." Clay tries again, "You don't have to go down this road, okay? This ain't the life you gotta live. You can be better than this."

The clerk fumbles over the keyboard, but eventually the cash drawer pops open with a resounding ding. When the gunman walks around the counter to collect their prize, Clay moves. He motions for the clerk to get down, while at the same time grabbing the gun from the unsuspecting robber. The struggle was quick, and over before anyone knew what actually happened. Clay holds the newly acquired weapon down by his side with his left hand, then he grabs the would-be thief with his right and pins him against the wall.

"You got anything to tie him up with?" he asks the clerk, who peers from behind the counter.

Spenser takes the duck tape from the clerk and carefully sets the gunman's weapon on the counter. After tying the man up, Clay takes out his phone and finally dials 911.

But a searing hot pain in his back stops him from tapping the SEND button.

He looks down in confusion, sees red seeping out of his chest.

And falls.

"I told you I had it!"

"I can see that, man! Move it!"

Clay watches helplessly from his spot on the ground as another gunman hits the clerk over the head, while the first one grabs the money from the drawer. Both men spare a glance at Clay, but the second stops short, stares at the tattoo on the SEALs bicep.

"You had to hold up the store with a soldier in it?!" then he runs off.

Clay, struggling to stay awake, can't help but think _We're sailors_ , before he passes out.

#

Jason walked around the apartment and watched half of his team with keen eyes. After raising Emma and Mikey and being in the Navy for most of his life, he's become an expert in taking care of people when sickness or injury knocks them down.

This latest flu outbreak was no different.

Sonny was curled up on his bed, a pile of covers kicked on the floor. If Hayes didn't know the big Texan, he'd be fooled by how innocent and dare he say small he appeared. Ray was no different, expect his current position was on the bathroom floor, huddled by the toilet. If any other person gave him the flu, he'd have their head, but since it was his own kids doing, he just smiled and suffered through it. Trent, the one who was supposed to be taking care of them (unofficially, of course) was the latest to get hit. He was fine that morning, but by the time he swung by Quinn's to drop off some soup his Mom made, Jason knew he caught the bug too. Now he was wrapped in a heavy quilt on Sonny's couch, in spite of the nice Virginia season.

Hayes made sure each of his brothers were comfortable, then settled in for the evening. With a bowl of soup in hand, he turned on the tv, hoping to catch a reply of a hockey game he missed live from earlier that week.

He glances at his watch, makes a face. Spenser should've been there by now. Maybe he stopped by Brock's first. Or Stella's, since they're apparently trying things out again. The ringing of a phone breaks Jason from his thoughts, but when he glances at his screen, its blank.

The ringing continues, and it takes a moment for Jason to realize that it is coming from Sawyer's phone which is on the side table. Hayes picks it up, sees Spenser's name, and answers.

 _"Trent?"_

"No, it's Jason."

 _"Oh."_ Clay sounds disappointed. _"Where's Trent?"_

"Flu knocked him down for the count, Clay." Jason walks to the kitchen, leans against the counter. "What's up?"

 _"I just... had a question."_ there's a long pause. _"A medical question."_

"Uh, okay." Jason raises a brow. "Maybe I can help you with that."

 _"Okay… what's the best way… to stop bleeding from a head wound?"_

Jason is quick to realize that is information Spenser already knows. "Clay? What happened?" he questions as he sits up, setting his half eaten bowl of soup to the side.

 _"I can't… it won't…"_

"Clay, I thought you were heading this way. What happened?" Hayes repeats, really getting worried as the kid isn't making sense.

 _"Yeah, I, uh…"_ Jason can hear faint coughing in the background before Spenser speaks up again. _"Please… don't be mad."_

Jason stands up straighter, concern building in his chest. "Clay, what happened?"

 _"The kid won't wake up… 'nd they got away. I… I failed."_

"Clay, where are you? Spenser, tell me where you are—RAY!" Jason is pulling his shoes on as he grabs his keys and rouses Perry from his drug induced sleep. "C'mon, kid, talk to me!"

"What's going on?" Ray asks sitting up. He was feeling better than Sonny or Trent, but still felt like crap. "Jase, what is it?"

"Clay?" Jason tries again. "CLAY!"

 _"He needs your help, Boss."_ Clay's voice is but a whisper.

"Where are you? I'll come, but you gotta tell me where you are."

 _"Gas station… the one with the… the broken si-"_

There is a clattering sound, then nothing. Jason looks at Ray, who is leaning against the door frame. "Keep your phone on. I'll call when I know something." And then he's out the door.

Jason still has Trent's phone, listening as the line is still open. With his own phone, he calls Brock and tells him to meet him at the gas station Clay described. Thankfully there weren't many gas stations with broken signs in the area, so it wasn't hard to find.

Seeing Spenser's car by the pump only supported their hunch as they pulled up.

"You bring it?" Jason asks as he and Brock walk up to the building.

Brock nods, holds up the modest medical bag he keeps at the ready. "What's going on?"

Jason can't bring himself to reply, because he can only fear the worse as they enter the building. And once inside, they are met with something worse than their fears.

Clay is slumped against a broken shelf, his shirt, pants and the floor stained with blood. His phone is on the floor, mere inches by his side. Jason and Brock rush to the kid, try to get his cracked eyes to focus on them.

"Clay, you hear me? Clay!" asks Hayes as he takes a handful of gauze from Reynolds. "Clay?"

"Boss?"

"Yeah, kid, I'm here. Brock is too."

"The… clerk. I… I c-couldn't get to-"

"I've got 'em." says Brock as he ducks behind the counter and tends to the still unconscious worker. A few seconds later he adds, "I called an ambulance. Should be here soon!"

"Okay. You hear that? Help is coming. Just hang on."

Clay tilts his head, tries to get a better look at Jason. Even with his unfocused eyes, he can see the worry etched on his team leaders face. And it was his fault.

"I'm sorry." He mutters as his eyes slip shut and his head lulls to the side.

"Clay? Clay, look at me, c'mon!" Jason keeps pressure on both of Spenser's wounds, though that is hard to do. Soon the building is illuminated with the familiar red and blue lights, and paramedics rushed in and quickly take over for Brock and Jason.

"Is he gonna be okay? He's gonna be okay, right?" Jason knows he needs to let the men and women work, but he can't help but hover as they pack Clay's entry and exit wound and prepare to strap him to the stretcher. "Is he? He's one of my men! I need to know if he's going to-"

"One of your men?" one of the medics ask.

"Yes, uh, Navy. His name is Petty Officer Clay Spenser."

"Great. You'll need to ride with us and give the doctors any information when we arrive at the hospital."

Jason nods and follows the medicals to one of the waiting ambulances. He turns to Brock, says, "Get back to Sonny's and fill in the guys. I'll update you all when I can."

Reynolds just stands there for a minute, watches his brother—yet again—carried off to a hospital with an uncertain fate. Except this time was different. This time, they weren't in a warzone. This time, they weren't the targets of Anti-American acts of terror.

This time, they were home.

It was supposed to be different.

It wasn't.

#

Jason paces the short hall in the hospital. Something he has done far too often since joining up. The feeling was familiar, save for being home and not in a war torn country.

He glances at his watch. Its just after three in the morning. Spenser has been in surgery for the last few hours and he hasn't gotten an update since the doctors wheeled him back to the OR.

Local cops came and talked to him, but he didn't have any information to give them. It was a short conversation, to say the least.

Hayes forces himself to sit down in one of the many uncomfortable chairs. Why hospitals don't invest in more comfortable chairs is beyond his state of comprehension. He's tired. Most of his men are ill or injured. And no one has given him an update since he's been there.

"Excuse me," Jason says as he sees a nurse walk by. "I'm waiting for information on one of my men? Petty Officer Spenser?"

"I'm sorry, sir. But Petty Officer Spenser is still in surgery." they say with a sad smile. "But the clerk from the gas station is going to be fine. Could've been a lot worse if your man wasn't there tonight."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay, thank you." Jason sits back down, lets out a shaky breath, removes his phone from his pocket and shoots Brock a quick message. _"Still in surgery. No updates."_ Then he sits back in the chair, folds his arms and waits.

It felt as if he had just closed his eyes when he felt someone standing nearby. Jason opens his eyes, is jolted awake when he sees a doctor with an unreadable look plastered on her face. "How is he?" he quickly asks as he stands to his feet.

"It was touch and go for most of the surgery. The bullet was a though-and-through, entered his left upper trapezius and exited his left upper pectoralis, which lead to significant blood loss. We were able to control the bleeding, and fix the damaged muscle." the doctor says. "He's a fighter. Give him a few weeks with therapy, he'll be fine."

"Can I see him?"

"He's being settled into a room now. I'll have a nurse come and get you soon."

Sure enough, Jason was led to Clay's room just a few minutes later. Jason thanked the nurse, waited until the door clicked closed behind him before walking over to the prone figure in the bed.

Spenser was propped up on a mountain of pillows. His left arm is in a sling, heavily bandaged-Jason can see the thick gauze piled on his shoulder, even with the hospital gown. A nasal cannula rests under the kids nose, and his hair, a little longer than normal, is matted with sweat.

But he's awake.

"I'm sorry I didn't get by the store." the kid says in a broken whisper.

Jason shakes his head. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"Yeah I do. They got away."

"But that clerk is alive because of you." Hayes pulls a chair over to the side of the bed. "You should be proud of that."

"Yeah."

"Hey. Victories don't always come in the form of catching the bad guys, all right? Sometimes those victories just mean we get to go home at the end of the day."

"But-"

"No. No buts, Spenser. Let the locals handle it. You just focus on getting better so we can get back out there."

"Okay." Clay nods, winces, then reaches out of the button that controls his pain meds. "The guys okay?"

"Yeah, they're fine. Ray's mostly healed. Sonny's still being a baby about it all. And Trent refuses to leave the couch." Jason chuckles. "You'd think with him being the team medic and all he'd be a better patient...but no. He's actually really awful."

"Hm… sounds like Brock has his work cut out for him." Clay smiles as he feels the drugs begin to take effect. The allure of slumber was quickly approaching, and Spenser did not want to miss out. It was so close.

Jason starts snickering, then breaks out into a full on laughing fit. Clay, on the edge of darkness, cracks one eye open with disappointment. "What's so funny?"

"Brock caught the flu!" Jason says between bits of breathing and more laughter as he reads and rereads the text from Ray. "Oh, man, Blackburn is gonna be so pissed!"

Clay can't help but smile at his teammate's misfortune, but is inwardly happy for an extension on their already extended break. With five of the six members of Bravo Team out of commission for the time being, he'd finally be able to just relax.

"Guess you'll be going to the store now, huh." Clay closes his eyes again, tries to get comfortable. "Wanna bring me a Gatorade?"

"The white one?" Hayes asks with a smile, because he already knows the answer.

"Anything but the white one."

"Yeah, sure. Right after I stop by Ray's to see Naima. I want to know how she avoided catching the flu this year, because I will not be the last man to go down." Jason muses as he watches Clay slowly drift off to sleep. "I should probably ask Mrs. Sawyer for some more soup, too. Sounds like the guys are going to need it."

-FIN-

 **AN: Review?**


	15. The Fairy and the Longhorn

****Plot: Mandy is tasked with gathering intel and Sonny is on bodyguard duty. Things go south.****

 **10: The Fairy and the Longhorn - SEAL Team (one shot)**

"Something ain't right."

"Just relax."

"I am relaxed. Something still ain't right."

Mandy Ellis sips her iced tea in an effort to keep from shooting a chastising glance at Sonny Quinn. She'd blame the heat, but there were other underlying reasons for her annoyance. Really, she could have met her contact without the Texan, but Blackburn and the CIA had all but ordered the SEAL along for the ride into the small town. Now that Sonny is sitting at a corner table with a clear view of Mandy and the mom and pop cafe does he let his own thoughts be known.

"I won't be long. Just keep watch and I'll be done in a jiffy."

"Did you just say-"

"Shh. She's here."

Mandy was meeting one of her contacts, who promised to have intel that would help locate a drug lord in the area. However promising that sounded, the CIA told Ellis to be careful, as the drug game in the area had grown greatly. If her presence was discovered, it could prove detrimental for various reasons.

Hence, the SEAL bodyguard.

Sonny watches the scene with intent, trained eyes as the small woman walked into the cafe. He notes everything about her: the loose fitting clothes, the disheveled scarf that hung around her neck, the wind-blown hair. Even the tea stain on her shirt sleeve. The feeling that gnawed at him since he set foot into the building didn't increase or lessen with the addition of the informant. That feeling was just… there.

Everything felt wrong. Sonny did not like it one bit. And it was starting to give him a headache.

"C'mon, Ellis." Sonny mutters as he stirs the tea he has no intention of drinking.

Bravo Three watches the time go by as Mandy continues her conversation. He clocks every person who enters and leaves the cafe, notes which staff are working where at all times. At one point a customer's cell rings near Mandy, and Sonny's hand is on his Glock before he even realized that it is just a kid sending pictures to another kid across the room.

This goes on for another 3 minutes and 42 seconds before the informant stands up and quickly exits the building. Mandy pulls her small bag over her shoulder and leaves. Sonny waits four seconds before following her out to the street.

"See? Didn't take too long." Mandy walks over to the van they took into town, climbing into the passenger seat and shutting the door once she was inside.

Sonny huffs silently, gets behind the wheel and starts the vehicle. "You get what you needed?"

"Yep. The CIA will go over the intel and Echo will be briefed soon after."

 _Good_ , Sonny thinks as he pulls out into the road. The sooner than get out of that town and back to the ship, the sooner he can get an aspirin. Maybe he was just dehydrated. This wasn't like one of the many deserts he's been dropped in, but even Texas summers appeared to be mild compared to this place.

Bravo Three continues down the busy street. Venders and shoppers alike milled about, children played in and alongside the road. As Sonny waits for them to pass, he takes a few seconds to drink some water from his canteen. They say water has no flavor, but this tasted like heaven, so Sonny was going to chalk it up to dehydration.

No sooner than the moment he caps the bottle does the feeling of something being off return. He sits up a bit straighter, looks around. The crowd has thinned significantly in the few feet he's driven. Venders have either shuddered their booths or left them altogether. It only takes him a moment of noticing everything for Sonny to press the pedal to the floor.

Mandy doesn't have time to prepare herself for the sudden increase in speed, so she is none too gently slammed to the side as Sonny steers the vehicle down a side street. She spares a glance at Sonny, who's intent eyes are bouncing back and forth between the road and the rearview mirror. Only then does Mandy notice the trucks right on their tail.

Sonny studied roadmaps of the area before he set off with Mandy, but the CIA agent knew the area better than he did. Plus, he was too busy to slow down a read street signs. "Any bright ideas, Fairy?"

Mandy keeps a scowl to herself as he looks at the streets around them. They were quickly coming up on the edge of the small town, and if they played their cards right, they could lose them in one of the many (secret) roads that go to the coast.

"Take this next right."

Bravo Three doesn't even question the fact that there isn't a road for him to drive on. Instead he guides their car to the path that can barely be called a road. They drive over fallen branches and rocks, around holes that look deep enough to house a few fish. Low hanging branches hit the windshield and for a split second, Sonny can't see what's in front of them. But that feeling of the unknown vanishes when they see the coast and the open waters.

"Looks like you lost them." Many tells him after looking out the back window. "Don't think many of the locals know about that shortcut to these cliffs."

"I ain't gonna complain." replies Sonny as he looks at the waves to his left. "Go ahead and radio the ship and let 'em know we'll be on the beach in-"

Suddenly, their car is struck on the rear driver's side.

The American passengers are momentarily stunned, but they quickly gather their wits when they realize what is happening. The other vehicle guns the engine, pushing them closer to the edge of the cliffs. Thankfully aforementioned cliffs aren't very high, no more than fifteen or twenty feet, but that doesn't make the sudden descent any more pleasant.

Mandy holds on to the seat while Sonny tries to keep the car up right. The last thing they need is for the car to do a barrel roll down the cliffs with them still inside. He isn't sure if they'd be able to walk away from a crash like that and fight off any tangos that are inevitably heading their way to kill (or capture) them.

With sheer determination, Quinn is able to keep all four (busted) wheels on the rocky and sandy ground as they roll down the cliff. They grind to a stop next to a boulder just a few meters from the ocean. However, they do not have time to catch their breath as bullets begin to pepper their vehicle and the area around them.

"Ellis, move!" shouts Three as he pushes the agent out of the vehicle, giving her cover from the onslaught of led. Glass shatters and rains around him, digging into his skin as he crawls to the cover of the boulder. "Get the ship on the radio."

"What are you gonna-"

Sonny is gone before Mandy can finish her sentence.

Since this was a bodyguard op, Sonny was not fitted with his usual gear. His Glock and a bowie were the only weapon he had on his person. Those, and of course the four God-given ones he was born with.

The tangos slide down the hill like ants, firing their own weapons as they advance. This makes it easy for Sonny to pick them off. One by one, they fall to the ground with fresh bullet wounds expertly placed. Only having one spare mag with him, Sonny does what he can to keep them at bay while he and Mandy wait for exfil, but eventually, his weapon clicks empty.

Quinn waits for the tangos to get closer before he makes his move. He snakes around the back of the vehicle, kicks the back of the leg and snaps one's neck, while quickly getting another in a chokehold and repeating his actions. Another he throws into the stalled vehicle with a sickening thud.

The guys of Bravo often comment on the fact that Sonny is like a bull in an antique shop (which he corrects to being a Longhorn). His larger frame sometimes means he's the last one to win a match when they spar, though he has surprised them once or twice. By no means is he any less capable than his brothers in hand-to-hand combat. He just prefers to blow things up from afar.

This battle goes on for no more than a minute, but by the end of it, Sonny is gasping for air. That's the thing about fights up close with the enemy. It takes everything out of you.

Sonny looks around, doesn't seen any more tangos. He is about to call for Mandy when he hears her gasp, then yelp in surprise. Now, he knows Mandy is a more than capable CIA agent, trained for whatever her own missions call for. He would never question her abilities to handle herself in the field. But there is just something about having a gun placed to one's head that prevents even the best of fighters from fighting back.

"Let the lady go." Sonny goes to reach for his Glock, but he quickly remembers he lost it in his last scuffle. That and he was out of bullets.

The tango didn't seem to understand Sonny's command, looked between the SEAL and their path to freedom with a good sized package of their own. They continued to pull Mandy back to a path that led back up the cliffs. The agent wasn't resisting very much, stumbling here and there, but that was it.

 _What are you doin', Mandy?_ Sonny thinks as he tries to comes up with a plan. He doesn't know if she got a call through to the ship, and even if she did, there was no guarantee that they would get to their pos before the tango got off with Mandy.

Right when he thinks about just charging the tango when they look up the cliff again, Quinn and Ellis make eye contact. It was just for a second, but it was enough. They didn't work together in the field often, but some things were understood, even without saying a word. So, Sonny grips the handle of his bowie and waits for Mandy's signal.

The tango spared a glance over their shoulder, mutters something under their breath. Mandy takes her chance and jams her elbow into the tango's side, which is enough to give Sonny his opening. Right as the sound of gunfire cracks in the air, the Texan brings the knife up, pins the blade between his fingers and throws it at the unsuspecting enemy just as Ellis falls to the ground.

For a second, the tango is stunned. Then they fall to the ground, dead.

"Mandy? Mandy, you alright? You good?" Sonny says after he removes his knife, kicks their gun away and checks to make sure the enemy was dead. "Mandy?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm okay." she replies, then notices the red blotches that speckled Sonny's shirt and arm as she is helped to her feet. "Better than you by the looks of it. Shit, Sonny-"

Sonny waves her off, squinting at the horizon as the sweet sound of a speed boat approaching fills his ears. "Just a little glass, Ellis."

Mandy raises a brow, points at the shard of glass sticking out of Quinn's forearm. "That is not _little_."

Sonny looks down, a look of confusion crossing his bearded face. "Oh."

"Hold still." Mandy removes the long-sleeve shirt she wore around her waist, then wraps it around his arm in an effort to keep the glass in place until a medic can remove it properly. "I didn't know you knew how to throw knives."

"Little known fact, Miss Ellis. I, Sonny Quinn, am a man of many talents." says Sonny as he waits for Mandy to finish up. "You ain't to shabby with those moves either. Hate to see you in a real fight."

"Did you just say shabby?"

"Maybe."

Mandy scoffs. "And for your information, that was a real fight."

"You know what I mean."

The CIA Agent purses her lips and furrows her brows. "From what I hear, you aren't exactly the best on Bravo at close quarters combat."

"Did you _not_ see me over there?" Sonny points to the number of dead tangos, his eyes going a little wide. "I mean, really, Ellis?"

"Kinda had a gun to my head to really pay attention." With a shrug, Mandy adds, "So, why don't we settle this on the mat? Like adults."

"Oh, no. I ain't makin' a wager with you."

"It isn't a bet. Just a sparring session." Ellis says. "But if you want to buy me a bottle of wine, I wouldn't say no."

"No."

"C'mon, Sonny. What could it hurt?"

" _I_ could _hurt_ you." Sonny walks down the beach as their ride back to the ship approaches. "Ain't gonna do it."

"I'm not worried about that."

"The answer is still no."

"Just one session."

Sonny has something that resembles a "no hitting women unless they are trying to kill me" policy. Being from the South, it just wasn't something he did. His parents raised a good man.

But just this one time? Yeah, he could make an exception for Mandy.

"Fine. One session." he says as they climb into the boat. "I don't know what I want yet, but I'll let you know after I win."

They shake hands and sit back, waiting to arrive back to the ship.

#

Nine days later, their session concluded in a draw.

(Much to the surprise of everyone who caught wind of their match.)

FIN

 **AN: Just a quick one-shot of Mandy and Sonny. Big thanks to _hfish7_ for helping me with some of this. :)**

 **I'm in the process of going through all of my WIPs, so keep an eye out for new stories.**


	16. Make It Count

**AN: Happy SEAL Team Day! We made it through the hiatus!**

 **I forgot I had this one-shot sitting on my drive, so I went ahead and finished it for today as a little thank you to everyone in this amazing fandom for helping me get through the summer, first not knowing if we'd get another season, then by filling that time until the new season arrived. Hope you like it :)**

Make it Count – SEAL Team

"HAVOC base to all stations, be advised your path to exfil is clear for now. With these clouds approaching, double time it before we lose you on ISR." Lt. Commander Blackburn says into his comms to Bravo Team. He was watching their mission on ISR with Ellis, watching their six from above as they monitored the ever-changing situation.

"Good copy, HAVOC. Making for exfil now." Says Jason as he leads his men out.

It was a straight shot to the exfil location, but the intel they were sent to gather was on the top floor of a three-story building located in the middle of a town. After securing the intel, Bravo lined up in three rows of two, with Jason and Ray taking point and Brock and Clay bringing up the rear.

"Why do you think they hid this intel in this run-down building?" Clay ponders as he follows his brothers. "I mean, if the rumors are true, then this is some scifi-like tech stuff. Why not lock it in a vault or something?"

Sonny chuckles. "Well, Rookie, let's jus' say some bad guys ain't the brightest bulbs in the shed."

"Yeah, I know that. But this just feels—"

"Don't say it!"

"—wrong." Finishes Clay. Though they did not slow or stop their pace, young Spenser would swear he felt five pairs of eyes on him. Six, if Cerberus were there.

"Dammit, Spenser!"

"You know SEALs only get ambushed like, once per—"

"We've been ambushed before, Sonny. That saying really isn't a thing." Trent chimes in from Quinn's left as they descend a flight of stairs. "But I agree with the kid. Something about this doesn't feel right."

Brock clears his right, then looks to the medic in front of him. "Like it's a trap? Don't say like a trap."

No one wanted to think it, but Five said it so now this mission being a trap is all in Bravo's mind.

The team finally makes it to the first floor and head for the rear doors that will lead them to a path towards their exfil location. Jason and Ray sweep their respective sides, leading their brothers into a conference room that overlooks a courtyard and more buildings. They walked down a short flight of stairs, which takes them to the ground level of the building.

"Whatever the reason for the Kid's weird feeling, forget it. Let's just fini—" Jason's words are cut off abruptly when he jolts and falls to the ground without a sound or warning. No one heard anything, but the remaining members of Bravo all took a knee and raised their weapons, unsure in which direction to aim.

"Where'd that come from!?"

"Move now, questions later! Go!" shouts Ray as he takes command. With Jason unconscious, it is up to him as 2IC to take control of the team. He quickly takes point, Clay and Brock bring up the rear. Trent and Sonny drag Jason between them as Ray leads them to any place that resembles cover. "Bravo Two to HAVOC base, come in!"

The familiar sound of a bullet reaches their ears, coupled with the sound of glass shattering. Someone grunts but they keep moving.

"Go for HAVOC."

"One is down. We don't know his condition, possible GSW as the cause. I need a location to hunker down until we can find out more. Over."

"Copy Two. There is an office 40 meters due north of your pos that will lead to exfil if you ca—"

"Sniper!" someone shouts.

Clay feels himself falling to the ground but isn't sure if it's because he ducks or if someone—or something—knocks him over. A second passed and while he doesn't feel the too familiar sensation of being shot anywhere on his body, there is a heavy weight on his chest.

"Move it!" Sonny says as the weight dissipates and he himself is dragged across the worn carpet.

Ray leads the team to a room that was closer, but upon arrival, was not better.

The corner office had a clear view of the city with large bay windows overlooking the street and what appears to be a park. Buildings stretched along the road, as far as the eye could see. The sniper could be anywhere.

"Clay, talk to me, kid! Clay!"

Spenser heard his name. He rolls over onto his side, then his hands and knees. He uses the wall to get to his feet, looks around with a mumbled "I'm fine." Hopefully that eases Sonny's mind.

"Bravo Two to HAVOC?"

"Go for HAVOC."

"We were unable to get to your recommended location." Ray says into the comms as he gives base their location. "There's a sniper in one of the buildings across our current pos."

"Copy that. What's One's status?"

Ray looks over to the team leader, sees his unmoving figure as Trent looks him over. "Trent?"

"Unconscious. Bullet hit his chest plate." Says the medic. "Broke a rib or two… shit."

Ray had just pressed the button on his comms to relay the information to HAVOC when the windows in the office shattered beneath a hail of bullets.

Sonny and Clay waste no time in overturning the large, wooden, conference table onto its side as Trent pulls Jason behind it. Ray and Brock returned fire in the direction they saw muzzle flashes coming from when Ray pitches back with a loud shout and a thud.

"Ray!"

Brock, the only member currently not behind the table and the only one who can get to Bravo Two, expertly grabs his brother by his gear and precedes to pull him behind their only form of protection. The bullets continue to rain in to the room. Brock curses as he sets Ray down and looks him over.

"Brock, how bad?" asks Trent as he leans over. Sonny and Clay continue to fire, giving them cover.

"Uh, through and through in his left shoulder, deep cut on his forearm from the glass… yeah, there's a piece in there." Brock packs the wounds as best he can. He looks up just for a second, and he sees Sonny waver ever so slightly. "Sonny?"

This gets Trent's attention, who reels around just in time to stop Bravo Three from hitting the floor. "The hell?"

The bullets stop, and Clay takes the time to get behind cover again. He sees Trent running his hands over Sonny's body, looking for the reason why he suddenly collapsed.

"Bullet went in his upper thigh, no exit wound… shit, there's too much blood. Might've nicked his artery." Trent mutters a curse. "How'd that happen? He was behind the table!" he grabs a handful of gauze and packs the wound, which causes a wince and a string of curses to pass the Texans' lips.

Clay thinks back to when the sniper first made contact, how someone tackled him to the ground before dragging him out of the line of fire. In the dimly lit room, Spenser looks down and sees red spots on his shirt and pants. But he knows the blood isn't his. "He must've got hit when he knocked me down at first contact." He tells the medic.

Brock, from his position of putting pressure on Ray's shoulder, looks over to their youngest member. "How'd the shooter get from one side of the building to the other that fast?" he asks. And suddenly, it all makes sense. "There's more than one sniper."

"And we were funneled into a trap." Clay agrees. "We're fish in a barrel in here."

"Shit." Trent keys his comms, the responsibilities of contacting base now falling on his shoulders. "Bravo Four to HAVOC base, come in."

"We read you Bravo Four." There is a slight pause before Blackburn continues. "What's your sitrep?"

"Bravo's One, Two and Three are down. Ray and Sonny took hits in the firefight and Jason is still unconscious from taking a hit to his plate. I'm worried about further damage it may have done."

"I'm fine!" Sonny shouts as he struggles to sit up. "Where's my weapon?"

Trent yells, "Shit, Sonny, stop moving!"

"Copy that. What about the rest of you?"

Trent spares a glance at Brock and Clay, who are positioned at the table, ready to provide cover should the sniper try anything else. "Fine for now. But we have a bigger problem. One was hit before we got to this office while Two and Three were hit once we were here."

"You got contacted on two different sides of the building? Less than two minutes apart?"

"Affirmative. Appears we are looking at two snipers, hell, maybe more." Trent releases the comms button, signs deeply, continues. "We can't stay here. How far out is QRF?"

"ETA for QRF is 10 mikes. But radar has picked up a nasty storm heading your way. May delay air support."

"Ground support?"

"Still trying to get you something, just in case. Stand by."

"Standing by."

Clay looks over his shoulder at the medic. "Well?"

"If the storm doesn't delay things, 10 mikes."

Trent carefully watches the time, waits for HAVOC to get back to him. By minute eight, the rain began to pour. By minute nine, the comms cracked to life.

"HAVOC to Bravo Four, the storm has suspended air support to your location. Ground QRF is 5 mikes out. How copy?"

Trent doesn't even have time to consider a reply when the onslaught of bullets begins again. He crouches down, making sure that Jason, Ray and Sonny were well covered before he returned fire. A few seconds pass, and he changes out his mag, Sawyer replies, "Good copy, HAVOC! Tell them to hurry the hell up!"

After what felt like years, ground QRF appeared on the street below. They returned fire towards the building Bravo was firing at, while others ran to Bravo's aid.

Since the room was on the ground level and the bay windows blown out, it was a straight shot for Bravo Team to get to the waiting vehicles. A medic helped Sonny limp along and another grabbed a still unconscious Jason, easily hoisting him over their shoulders. Ray was assisted and he spared a glance over his shoulder at Trent, Brock and Clay who still engaged the enemy.

"Let's go!" someone yells as he is placed in a waiting vehicle.

What happens next, happened in a blur.

QRF soldiers were laying down cover for Four, Five and Six. Brock ran towards the waiting vehicles when something struck him, hard. He collapses to the ground, landing in a puddle of water, and stilled as bullets continued to pepper the wet earth around him.

"Brock!"

Trent had just stepped from behind the overturned table and made his way towards his fallen brother, he could feel Clay doing the same behind him, when the area around them moved. There is an inaudible shout that cannot be understood over the sound of pouring rain and gunfire. Something exposed in front of them, sending them reeling back deeper into the building.

"RPG!"

"Get down!"

Suddenly, something above Trent and Clay rumbles and the ceiling starts to come down. Lights shattered, chunks of stone and metal and wood and plaster fall to the ground with crashes that aren't exactly silent. Even with the resounding gunfire and increased rainfall, it still reverberated in the men's ears.

It's a miracle Clay heard Trent's words at all.

"Six, move!"

Clay is pushed from the opening—from his brothers and QRF and exfil—and back into the crumbling building. He follows Trent as they work their way backwards as best they can, stumbling along as the ceiling continues to fall, looking for another way out. They had just gotten back to the conference room that overlooked the courtyard on the first floor when a section of the ceiling separated itself from the rest of the building, taking a section of the wall along with it.

It comes down slowly at first, then all at once.

Something knocks Spenser off his feet—right over the stair railing—and he falls to the ground with a pained shout. He shields his eyes as the dust fills the air, coughs when it becomes too much, folds himself into a tight ball in a feeble effort to make himself as small as possible as the debris falls on and round him. When the ringing in his ears lessens slightly, he rolls onto his back but stops when a sharp pain engulfs his right arm.

"Ahh dammit!" he shouts as he lay on the ground, trying to force his breathing to even out. Clay works on moving his fingers, assuming he still has five attached to his right hand—he waits—yep, still there. But his arm is definitely broken. He lets out a string of expletives in every language he knows.

Trent is not gonna-

Wait…

…where's…

"T-Trent?" all of a sudden, the throbbing pain in his arm is all but gone as Clay looks around the remnants of the conference room. It was similar to the one they were in earlier, but these windows were mostly in one piece. That and there was no large wooden table to hide behind. "Trent!"

The youngest SEAL frantically looks around the room, grabs his weapon with his uninjured and off hand and cradling his broken one to his waist. He continues to call out for the medic as he gets to his feet and stumbles about, clearing it as best he can manage given the conditions.

That's when he sees Bravo Four's arm. He's buried beneath debris.

"Trent? Trent! C'mon, Four, talk to me man." Clay doesn't like the risk but to hell with it. He sets his weapon down and uses his left arm to move the small and medium rocks away from Bravo Four's arms and chest. Once clear - as clear as he could get with a broken arm - Clay can see Trent is laying on his back, a large slab of ceiling was keeping the rest of him pinned between the remnants of the wall and the floor. Spenser reaches over and places two fingers to the medic's neck. He has a pulse, but it's slow, a little weak. Still he tries to walk the other man up. "Trent? Answer me, Four!"

Clay sits back on his heels slightly, biting his lip to keep from scream out in pain as doing so jarred his arm more. He reaches across his chest and presses his comms button, realizing that it has been a long time since he contacted the others. "Bravo Six to HAVOC base, come in."

Nothing. Not even static. Clay looks down and sees that his radio no longer resembles a radio. The feeling of dejection returns as he supports his arm in his lap.

What else could possibly go wr—

"No, don't even think it!" Clay says to himself. Knowing good and well that when someone asks "the question", shit hits the fan. So, he turns his attention back to Trent.

Just by looking at Sawyer trapped in the debris, it is impossible for Clay to see what condition he is in. Other than seeing the blood streaks on his head that peaked out from beneath his helmet, Clay can't really tell what other injuries Four sustained. This is not ideal, having the team medic unconscious at a time like this. Even if he knew what to look for, there is no way he'd be able to treat him. Not with the basic medical knowledge he has. Not when his arm is busted. And not to mention there's still a shooter or two or more still out there.

None of that is going to stop him from trying, he decides to take these few minutes to gather his thoughts.

Spenser had just finished going through his medical supplies, looking for something to splint his arm, when Trent began to stir.

"Ah fu-," comes a muttered and broken groan. Clay's head snaps up and he crawls over to the medics' side. "Six? Clay?"

"Yeah, man, I'm here."

Trent relaxes some, but it doesn't show. He cracks his eyes open, tries to take stock of the situation, but there's too much dust in his eyes and he shuts them again. "RPG?" he coughs.

Clay notices this and carefully wipes some of the dirt away from Trent's face. He then looks around the partially destroyed building, says, "Yeah. We got separated from the guys and exfil as it hit. And the shooters are MIA for now."

Trent sighs. "Awesome."

"Are you hurt or…?" Clay isn't sure where to start. The pain in his arm is making it really hard to think clearly, but he can't find his personal med pack.

Trent tries to move, but his weak efforts prove fruitless. "I, uh, I think I'm j-just pinned. You? Where are you hurt?"

Clay starts to shake his head, not wanting Trent to worry about him in his current state, but he thinks better of it. "Right arm's broken... that's the worst of it. There's probably more but my adrenaline is high right now."

"Okay. Okayokayokayokay." Trent lay there for a few seconds, trying to think through his meddled brain. "Is your radio working?"

"Doesn't even look like a radio anymore." Clay moves slightly, get lightheaded, which is not missed by Trent. "Yours?"

"Can't reach it."

"Right."

"Let's get your arm fixed first, then we'll worry about contacting the others. Can you tell what kind of break it is?"

"The kind that hurts?"

"Spenser…"

"Sorry. Um, the bone didn't break through the skin. I think I can feel it moving, so maybe transverse?" Clay bits his lip at the sound of bone moving slightly.

Trent can't do much of anything to help the younger SEAL and that pains him. Still, he has to do what he can to keep him alive. "Okay. Not great, but not awful. The best you can do is splint it really good."

Clay looks at the man pinned to the ground. "With what?"

Trent curses. Because anything that he would have used to splint Clay's arm is in his pack. And his pack is on his back. And he can't get to anything because of the way he is trapped beneath the wall and floor. "Look around the room. You see any pieces of wood, or metal? Something long and sturdy?"

Clay can't see anything from his current position, he says, "I'll go look. Can you reach your weapon?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Go. And Spenser?" the kid looks at Trent and he continues. "Be careful."

"I'll be right back." Six gives one last look at Four, then leaves to find something to splint his arm. He hated the idea of leaving his brother in such a vulnerable state, but at this point, he really had no choice. He was a decent shot with his left hand, but if push came to shove, he's useless in a firefight. Clay would get his arm taken care of, figure how to get Trent out from under the debris, and then they can work out how to contact base.

All while evading at least two snipers.

Not wanting to take too long, Clay doesn't go very far. He searches the debris for anything that he could use-a piece of wood would be best-but he was coming up empty. Everything was either too sharp or too small or too weak. He finally settled on a long piece of what appeared to be part of a desk when he noticed something amiss.

Clay's eyes go wide as he sees his brothers and QRF pinned down in the courtyard. The remnants of a small wall is the only thing separating them from the random pattern of bullets that whizzed through the sky. From this position, the young SEAL can see Sonny and Jason and a few members of the QRF team taking turns returning fire. But he can't see Brock or Ray and that worries him. They are pinned.

Spenser looks in the direction his brothers are firing, can make out the muzzle flashes coming through a broken window. The sniper has the perfect angle on his brothers, concealed by a long, slanted awning that gave the enemy just enough cover to do their job without getting struck by Bravo and QRF down below.

But they did not count on Clay having a clear shot, either.

He hasn't been rolling with Bravo for very long. In a sense, he's still proving himself, though his year as their Rookie is quickly coming to a close. Or has it already passed? He doesn't know, doesn't really care at this point as he knows he is their best chance at getting out of that courtyard alive. Clay reaches up to infor Trent when he remembers that he no longer has a radio.

If he's gone to long, Trent may get worried. What if he's injured?

But if he leaves to tell Trent he can take out at least one of the snipers, then their brothers may not survive.

Clay curses. Trent would be fine for a few minutes, just until he locked in on the sniper and took him out. He can worry about what comes after that when that bridge comes up.

Grabbing a broken chair with his good hand, Spenser drags it over to the window and sets up his rifle behind it. He knows he a damn good shot, but shooting with one's off hand is no small, easy task. He goes through his usual checklist as he lines up his shot marked by the muzzle flashes.

Clay's left index finger had just brushed the trigger when he heard something… off. It wasn't the building shifting, or the storm that continued to rage on. It sounded like a ghost. If ghosts wore boots that stepped on broken glass or debris. This wouldn't be a problem for Clay, really, if he wasn't trying to take out the sniper across the street. It wouldn't be a problem if the soft footsteps were walking towards him, seeing as Clay is better on his sidearm with his left hand than with a rifle.

No, this is a problem because the ghost is walking away from Clay and toward a trapped Trent.

Trent was a Tier One Operator. They all were. Clay has to trust his instincts, trust that Sawyer could do what needs to be done.

Clay had to trust that he could make this shot count.

Not having any other choice, Clay once again lines up his shot, waits a beat, and fires. At the same time, gunfire echoed behind him.

The following silence was deafening.

Only after looking through his scope and making sure his brothers were okay does Clay stand to his feet with a wince of pain. He draws his sidearm with his left hand, trusting to be a better shot with that and one good arm than with his preferred rifle, and heads back to Trent as quick as he dares.

When Clay arrives back to where Trent was, he is greeted with one dead tango and an exhausted Bravo Four, blood and sweat mixing with the debris beneath him. "Uh, you good, Four?"

Trent manages a stiff nod. He has his hand clasped over a wound on his bicep, says, "I'll be better once I'm outta here. You?"

"Yeah. All's good." Clay cradled his arm tight against his chest, his heart still racing after thinking he made the wrong choice.

It wasn't until a week later that the five senior members of Bravo learned what their Rookie did. One night they had off, as Bravo was recovering from various GSW injuries and fractured bones, Jason calls for a toast in a bar that had a pretty decent restaurant. While alcohol was off the menu due to them all being on pain medication as they healed, glasses of water and soda (or tea for the Southern person in the room) rose into the air regardless.

"This doesn't need to be all, as we all have come to realize how valuable Spenser - Bravo Six - has been to this team. We wouldn't be here if you hadn't taken that shot, Kid, so here's to you." says Jason with a smile. "One round on each of us." the rest of the team voice their agreements.

"You mean I don't have to buy you all a case of beer after that?" said Clay with a mocking smile of his own. "Sweet!"

Someone threw peanuts at the kid, another took the opportunity to dump the entire bottle of salt into his lemonade while the others laughed. Jason has had mixed feelings about young Spenser since he brought him up to Bravo, but after this latest mission, maybe his choice was worth it.

Only time would tell.

FIN

 **AN: School is ticking along so I still don't really have to time to write fics. But I do stop by every now and then so feel free to message me about the latest episodes and what you think about it. I'd love to talk to more of you about the show :)**


	17. The Best of Us (Don't Make it Home)

**AN: Hello from a place called winter break. I wrote this angsty one-shot as a one year anniversary gift to myself because I began writing for this fandom last Christmas and I haven't looked back. Thanks for being so welcoming. You all are the best!**

 **This is set before season three (which makes it AU-ish), since its Original Team Bravo (OTB). Any fics I write in the future that will include Metal and/or Vic will likely be labeled New Team Bravo (NTB) because I'm not sure how to write them yet.**

 **Major character death warning and strong T descriptions of graphic injuries. Tissues?  
**

 **Plot: As Tier One Operators, nothing is too hard. No price too high. No cost too great. When a mission takes a turn for the worse, one member of Bravo will pay the ultimate price to ensure his brothers make it home one more time. *Inspired by a scene in Call of Duty Modern Warfare 2***

12: The Best of Us (Don't Make it Home) One-Shot

They were almost to the extraction point with things went soundly south.

The mission itself wasn't hard. If they spoke their mind, which Sonny almost did in the briefing room, they'd say this mission was rather low on the totem pole of things Bravo was trained for. But, as always, they followed orders and went where they were told. Even if picking up some senator's spoiled daughter, who was in a country she had no business being in, cut their much needed weekend short. No one was going to mention this only happened because the senator was running for a really high position in DC, but everyone was thinking it.

Along the way toward exfil, Sonny complained to Clay in the front of the group while Jason and Ray tried to keep from rolling their eyes while watching the groups' six. Brock and Trent, in the middle and flanked on either side of the VIP (who may or may not be trudging along with headphones blasting some new-age Indie tunes), snickered silently to themselves as they scanned the area around them.

Picking the young woman up from a nice but still sketchy looking village proved to be quicker than anticipated when their VIP realized she'd be going home sooner and would have access to air conditioning, running water and food was wasn't gutted and bled that day (she apparently had taken enough photos to show her Instagram followers how kind and thoughtful she 'really' was for the next year). Sonny constantly gave Clay grief about the looks the girl gave him as they made their trek toward exfil. Ray offered to trade places with him so he'd walk in the back with Jason, but Spenser was not going to let an eager young woman rattle him.

This close to the coast the trees were thinner, the area more open. As they were essentially an overqualified escort squad, they were light on the gear side of things. Even so, the thick humid air still made it feel like the Amazon, and everyone was soaked in sweat. After pausing to hydrate, and so Trent could wrap their VIPs ankle (she stepped in a hole because her eyes were glued to her phone), they continued on their way once more.

That's when they were attacked.

The bullets whizzed by right as an explosion sounded in front of them. Sonny collapsed his position back to Brock and Trent, while Four grabbed their VIP and pushed her behind a large tree. Clay appeared on the other side, laying down cover fire, as Jason and Ray did the same.

"They're flanking us!" Ray said as he took cover and changed out his mag.

"Split up!" ordered Jason. "Four, Six, get her to exfil!"

Knowing that the mission is to get the VIP to exfil, Trent and Clay grabbed her while their brothers give them cover. They never enjoyed entertaining the idea of splitting up, but they had no choice.

Trent took point and led Clay and their VIP off path, toward exfil, with the sound of gunfire still echoing in their ears. They hadn't gotten far when a blur slammed Trent into a tree. He was pinned and couldn't get to his rifle before it was ripped from his grasp. A kick to his side and then one to his right leg prevented him from drawing his sidearm.

It happened quickly. Trent saw Clay pull the VIP behind him, saw him raise his weapon and aim at the tango. But he also knew that his brother wouldn't fire.

The tango rained down blow after blow. Trent returned a few of his own, but the tango was large and full of rage like a wild animal. The SEAL had just managed to grip the handle of his knife when something was slammed into the side of his head that sent a sharp pain through his entire body. He coughed, fell to his knees. The world spun as he was pushed onto his back. Dazed, with blackness encroaching around the edges of his vision, Trent didn't see the tango grab a knife of his own before the blade was thrust into his chest up to the hilt.

He couldn't even gasp.

Trent fought at first, but his eyes quickly drifted shut.

When he forced his eyes back open, Four saw Six fighting a different tango, while the one who stabbed him lay dead mere feet away with two bullet holes in his head. The sounds around him played as if he was underwater, and he could hear the rest of his brothers close by. But Bravo wouldn't get to their Kid before the tango killed him.

Before Trent's weakening body could consult his muddled brain, his left hand was searching for his weapons. He only found air. Not knowing where he lost his rifle or secondary weapon, his hand landed across his waist as darkness threatened to arrive again. A cough sent a jolt of pain through his body, blood trickled out of his mouth as his vision faded.

Sawyer blinked.

Clay was still fighting the tango, bloodied, movements sluggish. Bravo's youngest member was holding his own, remained between the tango and the VIP who was clutching a rock not even a yard away, but Spenser was clearly losing the battle.

Sawyer blinked again.

Trent's left hand found the handle of the knife that was in his chest. He didn't hesitate, didn't consider the consequences of his actions.

Throughout his long career in the Navy, Trent had come to know pain. BUD/S pushed him to his limits, as it did with every sailor who wanted to be a SEAL. He knew what he was capable of, knew the limits of his body. Four also knew that removing an object from an injured sailor was likely a big no-no. As the medic for Bravo, Trent spent years drilling that fact into his brother's heads. It only took Sonny nearly bleeding out in the middle of the desert for them to grasp the fact that the object acted like a plug, and once that plug was removed, things often got worse.

Trent gripped the handle of the knife with both hands.

No matter the consequences.

 _I will not fail._

So he pulled.

As Bravo Four pulled the blade from his chest, as he felt the warm blood pool and soak his clothes, he thought about his brothers. He didn't stop, he couldn't. Clay's life depended on it. Trent gritted his teeth against the pain, fought back the threat of unconsciousness, and kept pulling.

Once the knife was out, everything slowed down.

Trent pinched the slick red blade between his left thumb and index finger, held it tightly and sought out his target. By now, the tango was kneeling over Clay, punching the young SEAL over and over and over. The tango had gripped Clay's neck with his large hands when Bravo Four threw the weapon blade over handle. Through hazy vision, he watched as the knife sailed through the humid air, seemingly in slow motion, before the blade embedded itself deep in the tangos right eye.

Only after the enemy was dead, only after Spenser got to his feet and checked on their VIP, only after the rest of Bravo arrived looking worn down and battered, did Trent allow himself to relax.

That's when Bravo Four got cold.

He heard his name, but didn't know who said it. Maybe everyone. Maybe no one. When Trent blinked, Clay was kneeling over him. Sawyer wondered what Spenser was doing before he was reminded when Clay pressed his hands against the wound on Trent's chest. Trent didn't say that he couldn't feel it.

"Four? Four, you keep your eyes open, okay, man?" Trent knew Clay wouldn't admit it, nor would Bravo call their youngest member out on it, but Spenser's voice wavered as he spoke. "Your our medic, you gotta tell me how to fix this? Tell me what to do. Tell me how to fix this."

Trent's mouth was suddenly dry.

He knew he didn't have long, but there was so much he wanted to say.

Instead of talking he looked at his brothers who stood in the background, surrounding their unharmed VIP. Sonny was dirty and had twigs in his hair. Ray looked a bit bruised but otherwise okay. Jason was standing with his weight on one leg. Brock had an arm wrapped tight around his ribs.

Then there was Spenser.

The kid's face was covered with cuts that still bled freely, black and blue rings were blooming around his neck. He leaned over Sawyer at an odd angle, and his breathing was a little labored. But he was alive. So was the rest of Bravo. That's all that mattered.

His did was he was trained to do.

His brothers were alive.

His mission was complete.

 _I will not fail._

"Hooyah."

FIN


	18. Worth Fighting For

**AN: I'm neck-deep in final assignments for school, so apologies for not updating my current WIPs. I promise I haven't forgotten about them, or you all. However, after watching the promo for 3x19, my muse attacked me and demanded I write this speculative drabble. Please note this was written and posted before "In the Blind" aired. Stay safe!**

 **Summary: Sometimes, it can be hard to know what you're fighting for, when the war you've been fighting you whole life seemingly comes to its end.**

 _What am I fighting for?_

This question ran through Jason's mind at a million miles a minute. It circles in his brain like an Afghan sandstorm. It rings between his ears like a siren that carries in the air before the storm actually arrives. He hears it in his voice, then in Ray's voice… Trent's, Metal's, Brock's. Eventually Clay's voice creeps in. Hell, he even heard those five little words in Sonny's voice, and Sonny is thousands of miles away from them.

Through it all, Bravo One can't help but question…

Is this what it's all come to?

The fire he stared at gave off a familiar glow, but he couldn't feel the heat of it. He poked at the burning wood with a long stick, absentmindedly, lost in his mind. There was a cup on the seat next to him, but he doesn't recall filling it. Or emptying it. It was just… there. Like he was.

The cool night drags on, and Jason is left alone. His team, his brothers, separated from each other, each fighting their own demons, healing.

A soft sigh, or maybe a whimper, to his right brought his attention to Bravo's four legged member, slumped in a chair, head on the arm, gaze somewhere fixed off in the distance. This is when Jason realizes, for what may be the first time, Cerberus without Brock. Brock without Cerberus. And the sight scared him.

Flashes of the mission dance across his vision, forcing Jason to shut his eyes in a feeble attempt to get them to go away. Flashes of a mission that went wrong. Flashes of sending a brother home in a box. He can't tell what is real and what is his imagination going haywire.

Jason's knuckles turn white as he tightens his grip around the stick. His hand shakes and his breathing quickens and his heart races. When he brings his shaking hands down across his face, down the blood and dirt that caked his dry skin, a sob escapes his lips. The stick, his last lifeline, fell into the flames as he silently broke down.

Jason doesn't know how long he sat there, hunched over, struggling to breathe over and over and over. The war between mind and body rages. He grips the arm of the chair, runs his hand through his hair, tries to focus on anything he set his eyes on - the flames, the stars, the bar - but it is a losing battle.

And he knows it.

He blindly reaches out for the cup, which is actually filled to the brim, needing something to numb… everything he feels. In his hast, Jason knocks it over and it lands on the ground with a muted thud, its contents spilling into the open fire. The memories of a day gone wrong splash up like the liquid and fall back down to earth like drops of rain.

Eventually, the night stills. The camp quiets, as much as those who remain dare to. Cerberus, still in his chair, huffs as he finally falls asleep, leaving Jason to face his demons alone.

 _"We're getting pinned down here!" Jason yells into his comms as shards of stone walling rain down around him._

 _He isn't sure what caused everything to go wrong. But something gave, and before Bravo knew it, they were being attacked by enemy from all sides. Ambushed. Led into a trap. Set up. There are only so many ways you can say the same thing._

 _"Any Bravo company got eyes on?"_

 _Jason made the hard decision to split the team up upon their arrival on target. Something gnawed at his gut the entire flight over from base and only increased once they landed and walked the two klicks to their destination. He was hoping he would get over it once they were on target, but that feeling over increased._

 _"Bravo Two, what do you see?" Jason asks after returning fire._

 _Jason makes a plan and everyone is quick to get into position. They search the target building, get their HVT in record time. HAVOC barely has time to warn Bravo of what was about to transpire but the bullets rain down on their building all too fast._

 _"Ambush!" Ray had said as he looked for an angle._

 _"Ambushed once per deployment," said Brock from across the room. "Sounds about right."_

 _"Still not a thing," said Trent._

 _"Okay, shut it. We need to take care of these guys before they get-"_

 _An RPG striking the side of the building cut Jason off. After he recovered and made sure his team was okay, he gave off orders for everyone to get into position._

 _He sent Ray to search for a high spot while Clay covered their six from another. Jason and the others gave them cover. Dust was kicked up and empty shell casings littered the ground. And the longer the firefight went on, the stronger Jason's feeling about the situation grew._

 _"Ray, do you copy?"_

 _Thirty and Metal were inside the building and Trent, Brock and Cerberus were posted along the side, having been pushed outside after another explosion caused part of the building to collapse._

 _"Bravo Two?"_

 _"I'm pinned do-!" Ray shouted through comms. There is a long pause, then a crackle creeps over the static of comms. "Man down! Brav… is down!"_

 _Not knowing who was hit was nearly enough to knock Jason off of his feet. It took a lot of willpower, years of training and warfighting, to not panic.  
_

 _"Bravo Two, talk to me," Jason changes out his mag, goes to a different position between bursts of fire. Peering around a broken wall, he spots an armored technical vehicle raining hellfire down on a section of building. He didn't have a clear shot. "Ray? Ray, answer me, dammit!_

 _"I see it, I see it. I'm moving int-" Perry's words were cut off, and Jason's heart sank even more._

 _"Ray? Ray," Jason returns fire. "Any Bravo company, respond!"_

 _His radio was silent. No static. No contact with his brothers. He tried to raise HAVOC, and came up empty._

 _When the firefight eventually dies down after QRF arrived, and Jason steps from behind his shelter, he took in the sight of his brothers. Clay, Metal and Thirty were already huddling around the back of the building, their HVT held tight in the latter's grip. He doesn't see Trent or Ray or Brock or Cerberus, so he continues to hold his breath as he rounds the corner and-_

"Hey,"

Jason looks up, spots Ray through tears and the heat of the flames. He wipes his eyes, pulls his jacket down over his hands. "Hey,"

"You alright, brother?" asks Ray.

Jason doesn't miss the way Ray winces, or the way he holds his left hand tight against his right shoulder as he sits down. "Yeah, I'm… I'm fine. Good. You?"

"Nothing some stitches and a few days of rest can't fix."

"Good, good. That's good, I'm glad."

The two sit is suffocating silencing for awhile. Then, the crackle of the flames and Cerberus' deep breathing becomes more evident. That's when Ray speaks up.

"Nice to see Cerb resting,"

"Yeah, they said it took awhile. Didn't give specifics,"

"Clay took him to get cleaned up, but he just went haywire. Refused to eat, drink. Metal had to help wash and dry him," says Ray. "Even grabbed one of Brock's shirts and put it in his cage, but he just sat there and howled."

Jason hangs his head at that. Now he understands why Cerberus is so tired. And it isn't just from their mission.

"Have you heard anything?" asks Jason. "About-"

"They were finishing up with him when the doc kicked me loose. Trent was," Ray stops, looks toward the medical tent. "Trent said Brock'll be okay. Through-and-through, just lost a lot of blood. I'm going to sneak Cerb in first thing tomorrow. It'll do them both good."

"Yeah, okay, that's good."

"Is it?" asks Ray. He shifts in his seat again. Now, he is staring at his team leader, his brother. His best friend. "Is anything about this good?"

"What? What are you getting at, Ray? What do you want me to say?" Jason grabs another stick, throws it in the flames. "This is war, this is what we're here to stop. Not make peace."

"Yeah. I talked to the Chaplin, asked him that same question and I... Jason, this base is shutting down. There are peace talks going on whether we like it or not," Ray sighs. "And now I've gotta find out how to tell my daughter that daddy got hurt. That I could've died. How do you think that's going to go?"

"Ray,"

"I'm gonna check on the guys," Ray stands, clasps Jason on his shoulder. "Just... Get some rest, okay?"

Jason nods, but doesn't add anything more than that. After Ray leaves, he sits back in his seat. The night drags on and the fire dies down to mere embers. That question, _what am I fighting for?_ still rings in his head, barely heard over Cerberus' deep breathing.


End file.
